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OF      THE 

Theological  Seminary. 

PRINCETON,  N^J. 

BV    4310     .P4    1875 

CVs^-.    peabody,    Andrew  P.     1811- 

Shelf,       1893. 
'     Hi  'christian   belief    and    life 

Book.  


Christian 


Belief  and  Life. 


v4i 


BY 


ANDREW    P.  ^PEABODY,   D.D.,    LL.D., 

PROFESSOR  OF  CHRISTIAN   MORALS    IN   HARVARD   UNIVERSITY. 


BOSTON: 

ROBERTS     BROTHERS. 

1875. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1875,  by 

ROBERTS    BROTHERS, 

In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


Cambridge : 
Press  of  John   Wilson  and  Son, 


..^'-;. .. ^.-^  or 


V, 


f  y- 

TH.SOLOGIG:S.L^# 


This  volume  consists  of  Discourses  delivered 
in  the  Chapel  of  Harvard  University,  and  most 
of  them  prepared  for  that  purpose.  As  they  were 
written  without  the  remotest  view  to  publication, 
the  author  has  sometimes  used  a  sentence  from 
one  or  another  of  them  in  books  and  articles  that 
have  already  been  issued  from  the  press.  In  such 
cases  it  has  not  been  thought  desirable  to  omit 
or  alter  the  passages  thus  employed,  though  they 
would  not  have  been  so  used  had  there  been  any 
expectation  that  the  discourses  from  which  they 
were  taken  would  ever  see  the  light  in  their 
original  form. 


Chap,  Pagbt 

I.  Man's  Need  of  a  Divink  Revelation'    .  T 

II.  Our  Father 20 

III.  Religious  Reverence 32 

IV.  The  Efficacy  of  Prayer  ......  46 

Y.  Submission  to  the  Divine  Providence  ,  59 

VI.  Jesus  the  Light  of  the  World    .    ,    .  70 

Vn.  The  Peace  of  Christ ,    .  83 

Vm.  Jesus  Walking  on  the  Sea 95 

IX,  Christ  in  the  Family  .,,,,,.  108 

X,  Jesus  and  the  Common  People       ,    .     .  121 

XT,  Christ's   Temptation,  Crucifixion,  and 

Resurrection 135 

XH.  A  Door  in  Heaven 149 

Xni.  Identity    of    the     Earthly    and     the 

Heavenly  Life     ......     ,^    ,  160 

XIV.  The  Lord's  Supper 169 

XV.  The  Worth  of  our  Responsibilities     .  180 

XVI.  Christ's  Yoke  and  Burden    .....  191 

XVH.  The  Discipline  of  Life 203 


vi  CONTENTS. 

Chap,  Page 

XVIIL    Reasons  for  Unbelief .  217 

XIX,    The  Holy  Spirit 229 

XX.     Clean  Ways 240 

XXL     Conversation    .     '. 253 

XXII.  Hebrew,  Greek,  and  Latin  .....  272 

XXni.  Preparation  for  the  Future   ....  284 

XXIY.  The  Creator     .............  299 

XXy.  The  Spirit  in  Man   ..........  313 


CHRISTlfe^^^ijyS^ND  LIFE. 


MAN'S  NEED  OF  A  DIVINE  REVELATION. 

*'  We  are  hut  of  yesterday,  and  hnow  nothing,  because  our  days  upon 
earth  are  a  shadow."  —  Job  viii.  9. 

T  HAVE  been  alone  on  mountains,  in  deep  glens, 
in  dense  forests,  many  leagues  from  human 
dwellings;  but  I  have  never  felt  so  lonely  as  in 
the  crowded  streets  of  a  great  and  strange  city, 
where  I  was  uncared  for  and  unknown,  —  where  I 
might  have  fallen  in  sudden  death,  and  the  ripple 
thus  made  in  the  eddying  life  around  me  would 
have  been  as  transient  as  when  a  pebble  is  dropped 
into  a  river.  A  feeling  like  this  cannot  but  come 
over  us  as  dwellers  in  this  crowded  city  of  our 
God,  this  vast  and  multitudinous  creation.  What 
are  we  who  are  of  yesterday,  and  to-morrow  may 
be  no  more,  in  a  universe  swarming  with  unnum- 
bered and  infinitely  varied  forms  of  life  within, 
and  still  more,  no  doubt,  beyond  our  sphere  of 
vision?     Were   we   more   ignorant   than  we   are, 


8  MAN'S  NEED   OF 

were  we  acquainted  with  no  world  but  our  own, 
and  in  that  with  but  a  narrow  range  of  beings  and 
objects,  religious  faitli  and  trust  —  no  matter  in 
whom  or  in  what,  in  fetich,  idol,  many  gods,  or 
one  God  —  would  be  very  easy;  for  the  province 
of  divine  administration  would  not  then  seem  too 
vast  even  for  human  cognizance  :  and  when  to 
such  ignorance  the  rudiments  of  Christian  truth 
are  made  known,  the  result  is  perfect  confidence 
without  the  shadow  of  a  doubt,  attended  by  such 
manifestations  of  simple,  earnest  piety  as  have 
clothed  many  a  lowly  life  in  a  peerless  beauty  of 
holiness,  and  irradiated  many  an  humble  death- 
bed with  glory  Idndled  from  the  Mountain  of  the 
Ascension. 

But  we  cannot  shut  out  our  superior  knowl- 
edge ;  for  knowledge  we  term  it,  though  it  abuts 
upon  an  ignorance  more  crass  and  hopeless  than 
the  (so-called)  ignorant  are  conscious  of.  These 
countless  worlds  that  gem  the  night  heavens,  rank 
beyond  rank,  in  realms  of  telescopic  vision,  which 
even  our  figures  cannot  overtake,  still  less  our 
thoughts  conceive,  —  how  do  they  behttle,  nay, 
annihilate  us,  in  our  own  self-estimate,  when  we 
reflect  that  should  our  earth,  our  sj^stem  vanish,  it 
would  be  but  as  when  a  leaf  drops  in  a  forest,  and 
dwellers  in  far-off  worlds  would  not  even  miss  the 
wavelet  of  light  that  would  be  blotted  out !    Then, 


A  DIVINE  REVELATION.  9 

in  the  opposite  direction,  ^  the  microscope  makes 
equally  bewildering  revelations,  —  organisms  so 
minute  that  myriads  might  be  covered  by  the 
hand,  —  each  infinitesimal  being,  like  us,  endowed 
with  its  brief  life ;  each  as  well  fitted  as  we  are  for 
its  place  and  office  in  the  creation ;  and  each,  no 
doubt,  capable,  hke  us,  of  sentient  enjoyment. 
Wherein  are  we  better  than  they?  What  can 
we  claim  or  hope  which  might  not  be  equally 
claimed  or  hoped  for  them  ?  Earthly  being  seems, 
indeed,  to  culminate  in  man  ;  but  elsewhere  in  the 
universe,  or  even  close  around  us,  unseen,  un- 
heard, may  there  not  be  an  ascending  scale  of 
beings,  to  whose  higher  orders  we  are  of  as  little 
significance  as  the  animalcules  on  a  fig-seed  are 
to  us? 

Such  views  may  well  give  us  a  sense  of  lone- 
liness and  helplessness.  Power,  infinite  power, 
intelligent  power,  we  must,  indeed,  own ;  for  a 
self-existing,  self-organizing  universe  is  more  than 
absurd,  —  it  is  inconceivable.  While  our  theories 
of  the  creation  are  at  best  unproved  conjectures, 
comprehending  only  single  sections  of  the  phe- 
nomena which  they  profess  to  explain,  they  all 
send  us  back  to  the  Avill,  might,  wisdom,  of  one 
great  First  Cause ;  for  the  unnumbered  relations 
and  correspondences  of  the  realms  of  nature,  each 
with  each  and  each  with  all,  can  no  more  have 
1* 


10  MAN'S  NEED   OF 

been  evolved  from  chance  than  chance  can  have 
grouped  the  forms  and  tints  of  the  Sistine  Ma- 
donna, or  thrown  into  rhythmical  order  the  letters 
of  the  Paradise  Lost.  The  tokens  of  a  creating, 
co-ordinating,  governing  intelligence  cannot  be 
ignored,  and  science  is,  though  often  uncon- 
sciously, belting  the  universe  with  inscriptions 
borrowed  from  the  Hebrew  seer,  —  "  In  the  begin- 
ning God  created  the  heavens  and  the  earth,"  and 
"  The  Lord  our  God  is  one  Lord."  But  can  that 
Infinite  Being  stand  in  any  definite  relation  to  me, 
or  I  to  him  ?  How  can  I  promise  myself  his  regard 
for  me  personally  among  innumerable  beings  and 
orders  of  beings,  especially  when,  for  aught  I  know 
to  the  contrary,  notwithstanding  man's  earthly 
headship  over  inferior  races,  I  may  belong  to  one  of 
the  lower  orders  of  the  spiritual  creation?  Can 
my  life  be  more  than  an  air-bubble,  floating  awhile 
on  the  surface  of  the  life-ocean,  by  the  first  rude 
impact  to  burst  and  vanish  for  ever  ?  Can  there 
be  providence,  care,  love,  for  me  individually?  I 
may,  I  must  admire,  adore ;  but  can  I  pray  ?  and 
pray  hopefully,  believing  that  my  supplication  will 
be  held  in  regard  in  the  counsels  of  the  Infinite 
Mind,  —  will  procure  for  me  deliverance,  blessing, 
help,  peace,  joy? 

Here  Nature  gives  me  some  analogies,  indeed, 
which  may  buttress  faith  elsewhere  derived,  but 


A  DIVINE  REVELATION.  11 

no  certain  response.  In  her  majestic  order  I  am 
inextricably  involved.  Her  inexorable  wheels  may 
sustain  me  for  a  while,  but  only  to  crush  me  when 
I  block  their  movement.  And  when  they  crush 
me,  can  there  be  aught  of  me  left  to  live  on?  Life 
is  sweet,  —  I  cannot  but  long  for  its  continuance  ; 
but  my  longing  is  not  prophecy ;  nor  is  there  any 
answer  in  all  nature  to  the  heart's  despairing  cry, 
''  If  a  man  die,  shall  he  live  again  ?  " 

Philosophy  argues  the  question,  but  in  vain. 
The  wisest  of  the  ancients  attempts  a  futile  dem- 
onstration that  the  soul  of  man  existed  from  a 
past  eternity,  and  reasons  thence  that  it  will  never 
cease  to  be ;  but  he,  when  he  comes  to  die,  begs 
his  friends  not  to  be  too  confident  of  immortality, 
so  very  unsubstantial  at  that  critical  moment  seem 
to  him  the  grounds  on  which  he  had  based  his 
hope.  Another  spins  an  equally  flimsy  fabric, 
deeming  it  necessary,  however,  to  begin  by  elabo- 
rately proving  that  annihilation  is  no  evil ;  and 
he,  when  his  daughter  lies  dead  in  his  house,  con- 
fesses that  his  reasonings  fail  to  give  him  the 
slightest  satisfaction  or  assurance. 

But  one- — one  only  —  appears,  in  these  centu- 
ries of  human  existence,  who  speaks  of  all  these 
things  as  one  who  knows.  He  is  the  most  lowly 
of  the  sons  of  men;  yet  he  talks  of  providence, 
of    immortality,    as    God   might    talk,    could  his 


12  MAN'S  NEED  OF 

voice  come  down  to  us  from  the  eternal  silence. 
He  does  not  reason,  but  declares  truths  be- 
yond the  range,  above  the  scope  of  reasoning. 
Whence  his  assurance  ?  Whence  the  clearness  of 
his  convictions  ?  In  outward  seeming  he  is  but  an 
illiterate  peasant,  a  rude  provincial,  remote  from 
the  great  centres  of  intelligence,  brought  up 
among  poor  carpenters  and  fishermen ;  yet  said 
he,  ''  Heaven  and  earth  shall  pass  away,  but  my 
words  shall  not  pass  away."  And  they  have  not. 
Children  learn  them.  Strong  men  are  made 
strong  by  them.  The  afflicted  find  their  only 
comfort  in  them.  They  are  rehearsed  in  the  ears 
of  the  dying.  They  are  said  in  solemn  triumph 
over  the  open  grave.  And  what  are  they  ?  "  The 
Father  himself  lovetli  you."  "Every  one  that 
asketh  receiveth."  "  In  my  Father's  house  are 
many  mansions."  "I  go  to  prepare  a  place  for 
you."  "  I  will  come  again,  and  receive  you  unto 
myself."  "  I  am  the  resurrection,  and  the  life : 
he  that  believeth  in  me,  though  he  were  dead,  yet 
shall  he  live  :  and  whosoever  liveth,  and  believeth 
in  me,  shall  never  die."  According  to  the  testi- 
mony of  those  who  lived  with  him,  he  accom- 
panied these  words  by  works  of  power  and  love 
beyond  man's  scope,  which,  if  performed,  were 
nothing  less  than  the  seal  of  the  infinite  God  on 
the   truth   he   taught.     According   to   that   same 


A  DIVINE  REVELATION.  13 

record,  he  came  forth  alive  from  his  own  sepul- 
chre, thus  attesting  the  non-reality  of  death, — 
the  continuity  of  life  through  the  death-slumber. 

Shall  I,  can  I  believe  this  ?  Why  should  I  not  ? 
It  certainly  is  possible  that  God  is  my  Father ; 
that  he  extends  over  me  his  careful  providence ; 
that  he  will  preserve  my  life  when  dust  shall  re- 
turn to  dust.  But  it  is  improbable,  you  say. 
What  is  not  improbable,  prior  to  experience  or 
proof?  There  was  no  anterior  probability  that  I 
should  be  what  I  am  ;  that  man  should  be  what  he 
is,  —  a  thinking,  reasoning  being,  capable  of  love, 
of  duty,  of  hope.  The  order  of  nature  might 
have  seemed  as  perfect  as  it  now  is,  had  man 
never  existed,  or  had  he  been  endowed  with  an 
entirely  different  class  of  faculties  from  that  which 
he  possesses. 

But  we  do  see  in  the  whole  universe  an  estab- 
lished relation  of  demand  and  supply.  The 
ground  thirsts  ;  the  rain  stanches  its  need.  The 
plants  droop  under  the  scorching  sun ;  in  the 
timely  dew  they  lift  themselves  again.  The  young 
raven  cries,  and  is  fed.  Man  craves  for  an  infinite 
love,  yearns  for  an  endless  life.  Is  the  order  of 
nature  at  this  point  broken  ?  Here  alone  is  there 
intense  demand,  and  no  supply  ?  If  so,  it  can  be 
from  no  lack  of  power  in  the  Omnipotent.  Look 
at   the   phenomena   of  the  opening   year.     What 


14  MAN'S  NEED   OF 

giant  forces  are  hea^dng  the  teeming  earth,  push- 
ing up  the  grass-blades,  pumping  the  sap  into  the 
late  withered  trees,  clothing  garden,  field,  and  for- 
est in  robes  that  grow  greener  and  richer  with 
every  hour !  Oh  !  "  why  should  it  be  thought  a 
thing  incredible,  that  God  should  raise  the  dead  ?  " 

But  if  God  is  our  Father,  if  he  exercises  a  lov- 
ing providence  over  us,  if  he  hears  our  prayers,  if 
he  has  ordained  for  us  a  life  beyond  death,  how 
shall  we  know  it?  Nature,  as  we  have  seen,  is 
voiceless.  Revelation  alone  can  meet  these  desires 
of  ours,  —  can  answer  these  questions  which  every 
awakened  consciousness  must  ask.  Nor  is  there  in 
revelation  any  thing  intrinsically  incredible.  In- 
deed, if  it  be  oui'  only  avenue  to  certain  knowl- 
edge regarding  providence  and  immortahty,  can 
we  believe  that  this  avenue  would  have  been  left 
for  ever  closed  ?  Is  there  any  thing  unnatural  in 
direct  communication  from  the  Creator  to  crea- 
tures capable  of  knowing  him, — from  the  Father 
to  children  capable  of  loving  him  and  of  rejoicing 
in  his  love  ? 

Is  objection  urged  against  revelation  as  opposed 
to  the  order  of  nature  ?  How  much  do  we  know 
of  that  order  ?  Are  we  in  a  position  to  pronounce 
such  and  such  events  to  be  inconsistent  with  it  ? 
Probably  many  of  us  have  encountered  in  our  own 
experience,  or  through  testimony  which  we  could 


A  DIVINE  REVELATION.  15 

not  question,  occurrences  which  we  knew  not  how 
to  include  in  the  order  of  nature.  I  say  not  that 
they  cannot  and  will  not  be  so  included,  —  I  believe 
that  they  will  be ;  but  the  intrusion  of  events  to 
us  abnormal  and  unclassed  on  the  field  of  our  ex- 
perience ought  to  show  us  how  narrow  and  inade- 
quate are  our  conceptions  of  the  existing  order  of 
nature,  and  to  rebuke  the  paltry  dogmatism  that 
professes  to  know  all  that  it  was  ever  possible  for 
God  to  do.  Indeed,  we  know  not  but  that  reve- 
lation may  have  its  place  in  the  predetermined 
and  natural  order  of  the  spiritual  universe,  just  as 
paroxysmal  and  transitional  epochs  have  in  that 
of  the  material  universe.  Nor  need  we  believe 
this  the  less,  on  account  of  the  throng  and  press 
of  habitable  w^orlds  within  our  sphere  of  vision; 
for  there  is  no  just  ground  for  cavil  in  the  alleged 
strangeness  that  our  little  planet  should  have  been 
specially  signalized  as  the  scene  of  a  divine  reve- 
lation, with  its  attendant  pageantry  of  prophecy, 
sign,  and  marvel.  Who  knows  that  God  has  not 
in  like  or  analogous  methods  made  his  power  and 
providence  known  in  every  part  of  the  universe 
tenanted  by  living  souls,  —  to  every  order  of  be- 
ings capable  of  worship,  trust,  and  love? 

Meanwhile,  leaving  all  other  considerations 
aside,  Jesus  himself  is  our  best  proof  of  the 
divinity   of    the    revelation   which    he    gave,    or, 


16  MAN'S  NEED   OF 

rather,  which  he  was,  and  is.  The  effort  has  been 
made  by  unbelievers  and  sceptics  —  and  never 
more  earnestly  than  in  our  own  time  —  to  bring 
him  down  to  the  level  of  ordinary  humanity. 
Plis  story  has  been  pared  and  pruned  of  all  that 
seems  marvellous.  The  authorship  of  the  gospels 
by  their  long-reputed  authors  has  been  discredited. 
The  character  of  Jesus  has  been  subjected  to  the 
most  minute  and  searching  criticism,  —  the  lens 
of  the  microscope  adjusted  by  no  friendly  hands. 
But  let  men  do  what  they  will,  they  cannot  lower, 
or  dwarf,  or  desecrate  the  revered  form.  That 
name  still  remains  above  every  name,  —  if  not  by 
God's  special  gift,  then  by  its  own  right  and 
power,  —  by  the  grasp  which  it  holds  on  the  hom- 
age, gratitude,  and  love  of  mankind.  His  is  the 
most  potent  spirit  that  ever  dwelt  on  the  earth. 
From  the  day  when  he  left  his  life-work  to  the 
charge  of  the  eleven  Galilean  peasants,  his  has 
been  the  mightiest  force  at  work  in  our  world, 
from  the  very  first  "  conquering  and  to  conquer," 
so  that  v/ithin  three  centuries  from  his  meeting  the 
doom  of  a  felon-slave,  the  cross  —  meant  as*  the 
token  of  eternal  infamy  —  outblazoned  all  the  in- 
signia of  title,  power,  and  victory.  His  teachings 
underlie  all  our  modern  civilization,  all  progress, 
all  philanthropy,  all  hope  for  the  depressed,  suf- 
fering, and   sinning.     There  is  not    a    maxim   in 


A   DIVINE  BEVELATION.  IT 

the  improved  philosophy  of  life,  of  society,  of 
commerce,  of  polity,  of  finance,  which  has  not 
emanated  from  his  gospel,  and  may  not  be  retrans- 
lated —  and  for  the  better  —  into  the  very  words 
that  fell  from  his  lips.  Then,  too,  as  for  character, 
you  could  count  on  your  fingers  the  greatly  good 
men  since  his  time  who  have  not  owed  their  ex- 
cellence to  him ;  while  of  those  who,  if  crowned, 
would  cast  their  crowns  at  his  feet,  and  cry, 
"  Thou  alone  art  worthy,"  there  has  been  a  mul- 
titude of  pure,  holy,  beneficent  souls  that  no  man 
can  number.  In  fine,  Jesus  Christ,  considered 
merely  as  to  his  character  and  influence,  is  not  one 
of  a  class,  first  among  his  peers,  —  he  is  a  class  by 
himself;  not  unequalled,  but  unapproached  ;  not 
brightest  among  kindred  stars,  but  sole  sun  of 
righteousness,  making  the  ^tars  grow  pale  in  his 
light.  Were  I  to  approach  him  from  without, 
merely  as  an  impartial  student  of  history,  I  am 
sure  that  I  should  see  in  him  a  being  for  whose 
upspringing  no  spiritual  Darwinism,  no  develop- 
ment theory  would  enable  me  to  account ;  whom 
I  could  not  co-ordinate  with  his  time  or  his  sur- 
roundings ;  whom  I  should  be  constrained  to 
regard  as  himself  the  most  stupendous  of  mira- 
cles. 

He,   then,   in    the   transcendent  beauty,  glory, 
power  of  his  spirit,  is  his  own  best  witness  that  he 


18  MAN'S  NEED   OF 

comes  to  me  with  the  words  of  God,  —  with  abso- 
lute and  eternal  truth.  As  I  trace  his  way  among 
men,  my  soul  is  suffused  at  every  step  by  a  sense 
of  his  blended  meekness  and  might,  majesty  and 
mercy;  I  must  confess  with  the  Jewish  ruler, 
"  Thou  art  a  teacher  come  from  God ;  "  and  as  for 
his  heavenly  birth-song,  his  marvellous  works,  his 
resurrection  and  ascension,  so  far  are  they  from, 
weakening  my  faith  in  the  primitive  records  that 
relate  them  (wliich  on  merely  critical  grounds  I 
have  as  good  reason  for  believing  to  have  been 
written  by  those  friends  of  his  whose  names  they 
bear  as  I  have  for  beUeving  the  genuineness  of  any 
work  three  centuries  old),  that  such  events  appear 
to  me  no  more  than  a  fitting  exterior  manifesta- 
tion for  a  spirit  like  his.  It  seems  as  natural  that 
his  voice  should  break  his  friend's  death-slumber 
as  that  we  should  call  our  departed  friends  in 
vain,  —  as  natural  that  he  should  rise  from 
the  sepulchre  as  that  our  dust  should  lie  there 
undisturbed. 

Here,  then,  in  him  "  who  hath  abolished  death, 
and  hath  brought  life  and  immortality  to  light," 
we  have  our  sure  resort  and  remedy  under  the 
depressing  consciousness,  of  which  our  text  gives 
us  the  formula,  —  "•  We  are  but  of  yesterday,  and 
know  nothing,  because  our  days  upon  earth  are 
a  shadow."    I  can  feel  all  this  most  keenly  as  an 


A  DIVINE  REVELATION.  19 

eartli-bound  and  grave-bound  mortal,  and  yet,  as 
taught  by  Jesus,  I  can  say, — I  am  not  lost,  I  am  not 
forgotten,  in  the  crowd  of  beings,  in  the  crush  of 
worlds.  Thou,  the  Omnipotent,  lovest  me.  Thou, 
who  guidest  Arcturus  and  Orion,  art  conversant 
with  my  humble  interests  and  mean  affairs.  Thou, 
to  whom  worship  flows  from  the  morning  and  the 
evening  star,  hearest  my  prayer,  my  praise.  Thou, 
who  art  the  life  of  all  that  live,  hast  made  me,  in 
my  littleness  and  lowliness,  the  partaker  of  thine 
own  immortality. 


20  OUR  FATHER. 


n. 

OUR  FATHER. 
"  Our  Father."  —  Matt.  vi.  9. 

"TT  7E  all  profess  to  believe  in  the  fatherhood 
^  of  God.  Is  it  a  real  belief,  inwardly  recog- 
nized and  heart-felt  ?  I  apprehend  that  to  many 
(so-called)  Christians  God  is  a  chilly,  dreary  ab- 
straction, not  a  personal  existence,  —  an  article 
of  a  creed,  not  an  omnipresent  life.  We  are 
wont  to  define  the  Deity,  nominally  by  ascribing 
to  him  infinite  attributes,  virtually  by  denying  to 
him  all  human  attributes,  and  using  words  about 
him  in  a  sense  entirely  different  from  their  com- 
mon meaning.  Thus,  for  instance,  justice  is  uni- 
formly enumerated  as  among  God's  essential 
attributes  ;  yet  a  large  portion  of  the  Christian 
Church  have  for  many  centuries  maintained  that 
a  single,  momentary  act  of  disobedience  on  the 
part  of  Adam  has  been  punished  in  every  one  of 
the  myriads  of  his  posterity,  the  like  of  which 
were  a  man  to  do  on  a  small  scale,  so  far  from 
calling  him  just,  we  should  brand  him  as  utterly 


OUR  FATHER.  21 

infamous.  In  like  manner,  the  fatherhood  of  God 
is  set  down  in  all  Christian  creeds ;  jQt  compara- 
tively few  Christians  have  ventured  to  ascribe  to 
him,  in  their  utmost  conceivable  measure,  those 
properties  which  make  a  human  father  the  object, 
not  merely  of  reverence,  but  of  tenderness  and 
fondness,  of  unlimited  confidence  and  intense 
affection. 

The  appellative  father^  in  its  use  in  human  fam- 
ilies, suggests  no  thought  of  rigidness  or  severity. 
It  implies  immeasurably  more  than  a  willingness  to 
forgive  and  to  benefit.  It  denotes  an  incessant 
outflow  of  genial  feeling,  a  glow  whose  warmth  is 
comfort  and  whose  light  is  joy,  a  minute  and  ap- 
preciating sympathy  with  all  that  interests  the 
child,  a  participation  —  not  in  mere  form,  but  with 
a  fuU  heart  —  in  the  gay  and  festive  aspects 
of  young  life,  a  relish  for  its  laughter  and  its 
frolic.  Does  it  seem  to  you  irreverent  to  ascribe 
this  type  of  fatherhood  to  God  ?  Whence  comes 
it,  if  not  from  him  ?  Do  you  say  that  it  belongs  to 
human  infirmity  ?  How  is  it,  then,  that  the  great- 
est, strongest,  and  best  men  have  the  profoundest 
sympathy  with  childhood?  I  am  reminded  of 
Luther,  doing  battle  for  the  truth  with  all  the 
powers  of  earth  and  hell,  a  man  at  whose  mighty 
word  civilized  humanity  was  thrown  into  solution, 
to  crystallize  into  new  forms,  one  whose  name  will 


22  OUR  FATHER. 

gain  fresh  honors  till  the  word  of  God  —  bound 
till  he  gave  it  free  course  —  shall  have  emanci- 
pated the  world  from  error  and  sin,  —  yet  joining 
in  the  sports  of  his  children  with  the  keenest 
relish,  and  writing  to  them  from  the  scenes  of  his 
fiercest  conflicts  letters  brimful  of  fun  and  frolic, 
as  of  tenderness  and  love.  So  far  is  this  from 
dwarfing  the  colossal  magnificence  of  his  charac- 
ter, as  its  portrait  has  come  down  to  our  times, 
that  we  recognize  nothing  in  humanity  more 
grand,  more  glorious,  more  godlike  than  these 
gentle,  fond  affections  which  make  the  strong 
inan  as  a  little  child. 

I  ask  again,  Whence  comes  this  genial  love  ? 
Let  the  apostle  answer:  "Every  good  gift  and 
every  perfect  gift  is  from  above,  and  cometh  down 
from  the  Father."  But  God  gives  nothing  good 
which  is  not  in  himself,  which  flows  not  from  his 
own  nature.  All  that  is  lovely  and  genial  in  the 
parental  relation  has  its  source,  its  archetype  in 
him,  —  else  it  could  not  be  in  man. 

It  is  worthy  of  emphatic  notice  that  Christ 
drew  his  illustrations  of  God's  fatherly  love  from 
scenes  and  incidents  which  bring  into  the  strong- 
est prominence  the  festal,  gleeful  aspects  of  human 
love.  Take  for  an  example  the  parable  of  the 
Prodigal  Son.  Had  Jesus  intended  to  represent 
the  cold,  passionless  God  of  the  creeds  and  cate- 


OUR   FATHER.  23 

chisms,  the  father  in  the  parable  would  have 
seated  himself  in  awful  dignity ;  the  returning  son 
would  have  been  compelled  to  crawl  on  his  knees 
into  his  presence  and  to  fall  on  his  face  before  him, 
and  a  formal  sentence  of  forgiveness  would  have 
been  pronounced  in  frigid  tones  and  carefully  mea- 
sured words.  How  totally  different  the  scene,  — 
the  father  running  out  to  meet  the  son,  falling  on 
his  neck  with  kisses,  instituting  high  festival  on 
his  reception,  and  making  the  whole  house  ring 
with  music  and  dancins^ ! 

In  the  same  spirit  Jesus  meets  the  demand  of 
the  apostles,  "  Show  us  the  Father,  and  it  suf- 
ficeth  us."  "  He  that  hath  seen  me  hath  seen  the 
Father,"  was  the  reply.  And  what  did  his  dis- 
ciples see  in  him?  The  perfection  of  virtue, 
indeed,  but  none  of  its  austerity;  courtesy,  kind- 
ness, tenderness  for  all;  a  countenance  which 
won  to  his  feet  the  despised  and  rejected  of 
men ;  a  genial  intercourse  which  gave  him  the 
place  of  a  bosom  friend  in  the  hearts  of  all  who 
w^ere  within  the  sphere  of  his  intimacy ;  a  loving 
mien  which  made  children  climb  his  knees  and 
nestle  in  his  arms.  This  is  the  type  of  the  divine 
fatherhood  which  he  manifested,  and  which  those 
who  believe  and  rejoice  in  him  ought  to  cherish 
for  his  sake,  —  a  fatherhood  comprehending  all 
those  benignant  and  loving  traits  which  are  beau- 


24  OUR   FATHER. 

tiful  in  the  human  father,  and  are  only  more  fully 
and  richly  developed  in  him  as  he  receives  more 
of  the  grace  of  God,  and  becomes  more  fully  im- 
bued with  the  spirit  of  Christ. 

Does  this  familiar  conception  of  the  fatherhood 
of  God  impair  our  reverence  for  him?  Let  the 
children  of  the  most  loving  parents  answer  the 
question.  Does  the  child  lose  reverence  for  his 
parents,  because  they  are  with  him,  heart  and  soul, 
in  all  that  makes  him  happy  ?  Who  are  the 
parents  that  are  most  revered,  —  the  austere 
and  stern,  who  frown  upon  all  buoyancy  and 
gayety;  or  those  who  enter  gracefully  and  lov- 
ingly into  whatever  can  give  their  children  joy  ? 

This  view  of  the  divine  fatherhood  has  its  mo- 
mentous bearings  on  the  type  of  piety  which  we 
should  cherish  in  ourselves  and  promote  in  others. 
I  hardly  need  say  how  in  many  quarters  the  very 
word  piety  needs  to  be  redeemed  from  sombre  and 
repulsive  associations.  To  many  an  ear  it  sounds 
like  the  knell  of  joy ;  and  not  a  few  who  think 
of  piety  as  a  necessary  preparation  for  death, 
really  regard  it  as  the  bane  of  life,  associate  it 
with  sickness,  sorrow,  and  the  grave,  and  delib- 
erately or  with  instinctive  dread  postpone  it  as  a 
personal  concern  till  the  evil  days  come  and  the 
pleasureless  years  draw  nigh.  But  if  God  be 
indeed  our  Father  in  the  only  sense  which  we  can 


OUR  FATHER.  25 

reasonably  attach  to  the  word,  then  piety  toward 
him  has  rightfully  none  but  happy  associations. 
There  can  be  nothing  worth  enjoying  which  it  can 
call  upon  us  to  resign.  In  nothing  is  the  father- 
hood of  God  more  fully  manifested  than  in  the 
abundant  provision  of  means  of  happiness,  —  of  ob- 
jects whose  prime  or  sole  use  and  purpose  is,  to  be 
enjoyed.  Let  us  not  forget  that  he  has  bestowed 
upon  us  the  capacity  of  mirth,  —  the  bodily  powers 
and  the  mental  proclivities  whose  natural  exer- 
cise is  exhilarating ;  that  the  muscles  which  pro- 
duce the  smile  and  the  laugh  are  of  his  handiwork  ; 
that  buoyancy  of  spirit  is  not  of  forced  growth, 
but  the  gift  of  nature,  that  is,  of  God ;  that  the 
power  of  pleasurable  sensation  is  lodged  by  him 
in  every  organ,  faculty,  and  portion  of  our  being, 
and  seldom  dislodged  except  by  the  violation 
of  the  laws  of  our  being.  How  largely,  too,  has 
God  enhanced  our  capacity  and  deepened  our 
sources  of  enjoyment  by  those  relations  of  home 
and  of  society  in  which  happiness  is  doubled  be- 
cause divided,  multiplied  because  shared  !  —  rela- 
tions not,  in  any  sense,  of  human  device  and 
ordinance,  but  existing  by  laws  inherent  in  the  na- 
tive constitution  of  the  race,  and  thus  attesting  tJie 
loving  fatherhood  of  its  Creator.  Then,  again, 
how  full  is  the  universe  around  us  of  sights, 
sounds,  and  flavors,  which  have  no  meaning  but 
2 


26  OUR  FATHER. 

the  loving  kindness  of  its  Author!  What  are 
golden  sunset  clouds,  moonlight  nights,  glowing 
landscapes,  gorgeous  bloom,  sparkling  waters,  bird- 
songs,  luscious  fruits,  but  godsends  of  the  Father's 
love  ?  The  God  of  scholastic  theology  would  have 
created  a  bleak,  barren,  utilitarian  universe,  fitted 
only  for  the  ascetic,  instead  of  one  that  crowds 
every  avenue  to  the  soul  with  sensations  of  glad- 
ness, and  invites  us  ever,  by  the  same  winning 
voices  and  ministries,  both  to  enjoy  and  to  adore. 
How,  then,  is  piety  toward  God  to  be  mani- 
fested? The  child  of  kind  human  parents  shows 
his  piety  to  them,  not  by  despising  their  gifts  and 
spurning  the  tokens  of  their  love,  but  by  enjoying 
all  of  them  to  the  full,  with  his  loving  parents 
constantly  in  his  thought,  using  their  gifts  as  they 
would  have  them  used,  and  deeming  himself  most 
happy  when  he  can  pursue  his  pleasure  in  their 
presence  and  with  their  participation.  By  parity 
of  reason,  the  true  child  of  God  manifests  his 
piety,  not  by  dashing  from  him  the  cup  of  joy 
put  full  to  his  lips,  but  by  making  his  joy  grati- 
tude, his  gladness  thanksgiving,  by  using  the 
world  as  not  abusing  it,  by  close  adherence  to  the 
laws  which  always  accompany  the  gifts  and  make 
them  immeasurably  the  more  precious,  and  by 
never  losing  thought  of  the  benignant  presence  of 
him  who  has  all  of  a  Father's  gladness  in  seeing 
his  children  happy. 


OUR  FATHER.  27 

Were  these  views  made  prominent  in  religious 
teaching,  and  especiall}^  in  the  religious  culture  of 
the  3'oung,  religion  would  not  be  the  unwelcome 
theme  it  now  is  to  so  many,  nor  would  the  offices 
of  Christian  worship  be  regarded  with  the  indif- 
ference now  so  sadly  prevalent.  Were  God  really 
a  Father  in  the  inmost  belief  and  habitual  thought 
of  those  who  call  themselves  Christians,  there 
would  be  a  conscious  delight  in  the  contemplation 
of  his  works  as  bearing  his  imprint,  of  the  meth- 
ods of  his  loving  providence  as  manifestations  of 
his  character,  of  the  revelations  which  are  his 
direct  messages  to  his  children ;  and  as  for  praise, 
adoration,  and  prayer,  so  far  from  seeming  a  task- 
work, they  would  be  but  the  natural  and  spon- 
taneous outflow  of  feelings  always  craving 
expression  and  trembling  on  the  brink  of  utter- 
ance. But  so  long  as  associations  of  awe  and 
terror  merge  the  divine  fatherhood  in  the  speech 
and  writing,  if  not  in  the  belief,  of  Christians  ; 
so  long  as  the  religious  life  is  represented  as 
joyless  self-denial,  —  few  of  the  young  and  happy 
will  even  give  sufficient  heed  to  the  matter  to 
learn  that  piety  is  a  fountain  of  perennial  joy.  In 
this  regard  Christians  have  borrowed,  to  the  injury 
of  their  cause,  one  prominent  feature  of  Judaism. 
Secrecy  characterized  the  most  sacred  portion  of 
the  Hebrew  ritual.     The  tabernacle  was  covered 


28  OUR  FATHER. 

on  the  outside  with  rams'  skins  and  badgers'  skins, 
and  must  have  presented  to  the  people  a  very 
unsightly  aspect,  while  within,  for  the  eyes  of  the 
priests  alone,  it  gleamed  with  pure  gold,  was 
hung  with  rich  folds  of  purple  and  scarlet  drapery, 
and  was  filled  with  all  things  precious  and  beauti- 
ful. In  like  manner,  the  inner  temple  of  Chris- 
tian faith  and  devotion  is  often  belied  by  an 
exterior  that  gives  no  token  of  what  it  covers.  In 
many  a  consecrated  soul  the  beauty  and  joy  of 
holiness  are  wholly  veiled  from  outside  view  by  a 
forced  sanctimoniousness  of  mien,  austerity  of 
manner,  and  length  of  visage,  as  if  the  aim  were 
to  show  the  Avorld  how  hard  a  service  is  that 
of  Christ,  and  under  how  hard  a  master.  Let 
those  who  rejoice  in  the  divine  fatherhood  feel 
and  show  the  full  blessedness  that  belongs  to  the 
conscious  children  of  God ;  let  Religion  put  on 
her  singing  robes  ;  let  her  wear  before  all  men  the 
garments  of  praise  and  rejoicing  which  are  hers  of 
right,  and  hers  alone ;  and  her  courts  will  no  longer 
be  deserted,  nor  will  her  solemn  feasts  lack  glad 
and  thankful  guests. 

Yet  another  inference  from  the  divine  father- 
hood. Fatherhood  implies  distinctive  love  for  the 
individual  child,  and  thus,  of  necessity,  a  personal 
interest  in  the  child's  well  or  ill  doing,  right  or 
wrong  conduct,  good  or  bad  character.     Have  we 


OTJR  FATHER.  29 

not  been  over-ready  to  eliminate  this  personal 
element  from  the  divine  fatherhood?  We  speak 
of  the  Almighty  as  emotionless.  How  do  we 
know  this  ?  If  emotion  be  the  result  of  weakness, 
the  thought  of  it  as  applied  to  the  Supreme  Being 
would  be  blasphemy.  But  is  not  the  sea-swell 
type  and  token  of  the  ocean's  might  and  majest}^  ? 
And  may  not  the  pulse-beat  of  an  affection  intense 
and  tender  beyond  our  thought  be  even  a  more 
adequate  and  reverent  conception  of  the  Deity 
than  the  icy  repose  so  generally  associated  with 
his  image  ?  But  if  he  thus  loves  us,  he  feels  for 
us.  We  feed  the  fountain  of  his  gladness  by  be- 
ing what  he  would  have  us  be.  I  know  that  it  is 
among  the  commonplaces  of  religious  utterance, 
that  no  finite  being  can  add  to  or  take  from  the 
happiness  of  the  Infinite  Being.  This  no  doubt  is 
true  as  regards  the  happiness  flowing  directly  from 
self-consciousness ;  for  it  is  approximately  true 
even  of  excellently  good  men.  Yet,  as  a  nearer 
kindred  of  spirit  with  God  only  makes  a  good  man 
more  keenly  sensitive  to  the  moral  qualities  of 
those  ^around  him,  —  as  no  one  was  ever  more  sus- 
ceptible than  Christ  of  joy  or  grief  from  good  or 
evil  in  men's  conduct  and  character,  —  I  cannot 
but  believe  that  there  is  what  I  can  best  term 
emotional  recognition,  on  the  part  of  the  Eternal 
Father,  of  good  or  evil  in  his  children ;   that  if 


80  OUR  FATHER. 

there  be  joy  in  heaven  over  the  penitent  sinner, 
he,  chief  of  all,  feels  that  joy ;  that  you  and  I 
give  to  or  withhold  from  the  Supreme  Being  con- 
scious satisfaction  and  gladness  by  our  purity  and 
sanctity  of  spirit  and  conduct,  or  by  false,  impure, 
and  unworthy  lives.  Oh,  did  we  thus  feel  our 
sonshijD,  and  bear  about  in  our  hearts  our  birth- 
bonds,  could  there  be  a  more  potent  motive  in  the 
pursuit  of  good  and  the  avoidance  of  evil  ?  If  we 
know  that  we  can,  not  in  figure,  but  in  fact, 
create  new  joy  in  heaven,  can  we  suppress  or 
scant  that  joy,  when  heaven  rains  down  perpet- 
ual blessings,  and  beams  upon  us  in  unceasing 
benignity  ? 

Finally,  whether  the  child  finds  privilege  and 
happiness  or  restraint  and  irksomeness  in  the  hu- 
man father's  well-ordered  household,  depends  on 
his  own  choice,  on  his  own  character.  With  an 
unfilial  spirit,  with  a  temper  out  of  harmony 
with  the  ways  of  the  house,  he  may  be  wretched, 
while  every  thing  is  adapted  to  make  him  happy. 
He  may  seek  elsewhere  the  imagined  greater, 
but  brief  and  ruinous,  pleasure  for  which  there  is 
no  provision  at  home.  God's  child  can  be  happy 
in  his  universal  house,  only  through  love  of  the 
Father  and  conformity  to  the  ways  of  the  house. 
The  fatherl}^  and  filial  relation  must  be  felt  and 
recognized  on  both  sides,  in  order  for  either  to 


OUR  FATHER.  31 

derive  pleasure  or  benefit  from  it.  Tlie  child  of 
God  who  has  not  a  child's  heart,  must  go  to  his 
own  place,  and  that  cannot  be  a  place  of  privilege 
or  joy.  But  he  is  self-banished,  self-punished. 
He  has  forsaken  his  own  mercies.  It  is  not  God's 
love  that  is  withdrawn  from  him ;  but  he  has 
taken  himself  from  the  shelter  and  joy  of  that 
love.  Be  this  not  our  condemnation.  But  while 
in  every  voice  of  nature,  providence,  and  Saviour, 
God  is  saying  to  each  of  us,  "  My  child,  give  me 
thy  heart,"  oh,  let  our  hearts  be  early  and  ever 
his ! 


32  BELIGIOUS  BEVERENCE. 


III. 

RELIGIOUS  EEVERENCE. 

"Hallowed  he  thy  name.'*  —  Matt.  vi.  9. 

TD  Y  a  well-known  Hebrew  idiom,  name  stands 
■^"^  for  the  person  named,  so  that  while  this  peti- 
tion deprecates  all  irreverent  si:)eech,  it  still  more 
expresses  the  souFs  desire  to  hallow  with  pro- 
foundest  reverence  the  thought,  the  conception, 
the  image  of  God,  and,  by  parity  of  reason,  what- 
ever is  associated  with  him.  Reverence  might  be 
deemed  at  once  a  necessity,  a  duty,  and  a  privi- 
lege :  a  necessity,  —  for  did  not  observation  and 
experience  teach  the  contrary,  it  would  seem  to 
us  impossible  to  believe  in  the  existence  of  a  Being 
at  once  infinite  and  perfect,  without  the  most 
lowly  attitude  of  the  soul  in  his  felt  presence ;  a 
duty,  —  for  if  duty  denotes  that  which  is  due^ 
nothing  else  than  this  prostration  of  spirit  can  be 
due  to  a  Being  of  boundless  power  and  universal 
providence ;  a  privilege,  —  for  the  mind  is  never 
so  truly  great  as  when  it  owns  a  greatness  beyond 


RELIGIOUS  REVERENCE,  83 

its  measure,  —  the  soul  is  never  so  large  and  lofty 
as  when  its  conceptions  more  than  fill,  —  crowd, 
stretch,  exceed,  transcend  it.  Yet  in  our  time, 
men,  more  it  is  believed  than  ever  before,  forego 
this  privilege,  spurn  this  duty,  sink  below,  while 
they  imagine  themselves  rising  above,  this  neces- 
sity. Why  is  this  ?  The  reasons  are  more  numer- 
ous than  can  be  given  in  a  single  discourse ;  but 
some  of  the  more  obvious  may  not  unprofitably 
occupy  our  thoughts  at  the  present  time. 

Technical  theology,  in  attempting  to  delineate 
the  divine  attributes,  has  dwarfed  them  by  using 
about  them  terms  that  describe  human  necessities 
and  limitations,  even  human  infirmities  and  pas- 
sions ;  theologians  have  often  so  shaped  their 
formal  definitions  of  the  Divine  Being  as  to  ex- 
clude all  grand  and  soul-filling  ideas  concerning 
him  ;  and  to  those  who  contemplate  him  mainly 
under  such  definitions,  piety  itself  becomes  an 
internal  formalism,  stringent,  indeed,  but  with 
nothing  large  or  high  in  the  thoughts  that  feed  it 
or  issue  from  it.  Thus  there  is  really  nothing  unnat- 
ural in  the  answer  of  an  eminent  theological  pro- 
fessor of  the  last  generation,  who,  when  asked  one 
day  the  subject  of  his  lecture,  rephed,  ''  Only  the 
attributes  of  God."  Polemic  theology,  also,  by 
using  all  sorts  of  divine  names  and  sacred  words 
in  its  subtile  and  too   frequently  bitter  strife,  as 


34  BELIGIOUS  REVEEENCE. 

truly  as  the  profane  swearer,  takes  God's  name  in 
vain,  and  gradually  loses  all  vestiges  of  reverence 
for  the  very  conceptions  which  it  defends  as  of 
vital  moment.  Fanatical  devotion,  too,  merges 
reverence  in  familiarit}^,  and  in  its  gross  anthro- 
pomorphism attributes  to  the  Divine  Being  its  own 
narrow  prejudices,  partialities,  and  pettinesses. 

But  these  are  causes  with  which  we  have  very 
little  concern.  It  is  more  to  our  purpose  to  con- 
sider the  irreverent  tendencies  imputed  to  the 
science  of  our  time.  Did  I  believe  this  imputation 
founded  in  the  nature  and  necessities  of  science, 
my  only  alternative  would  be  to  denounce  science 
or  to  abandon  worship.  But  such  tendencies  I 
regard  as  only  incidental  and  temporary.  They 
undoubtedly  cleave  to  certain  scientific  epochs. 
To  man  in  a  state  of  comparative  ignorance  dense 
clouds  hang  close  above  and  around  him.  The 
awful  mystery  of  the  unexplored  is  at  his  fingers' 
ends.  He  must  wonder,  worship,  adore  —  if  noth- 
ing else  —  the  occult  forces  of  nature,  irresistible 
but  untraceable,  omnipotent  but  unknowable.  If 
on  his  darkness  there  alights  from  a  revelation 
which  he  trusts  the  conception  of  one  infinite,  pure, 
merciful  God,  the  love,  piety,  and  reverence  thus 
awakened  will  be  sincere  and  fervent,  fully  ade- 
quate to  guide  him  in  duty,  and  to  train  him  for 
the    reception  of   the  light  that  shall  burst  upon 


RELIGIOUS  REVERENCE.  35 

him  when  the  mortal  shall  put  on  immortality. 
But  when  science  clears  away  for  man  the  nearer 
mists  and  the  lower  clouds,  broadeos  his  horizon 
and  enlarges  his  firmament,  reveals  to  him  the 
reign  of  law  in  nature,  enables  him  to  trace  causes 
and  to  foretell  consequences,  these  new  discov- 
eries occupy  with  cognizable  truths  the  spaces 
which  of  late  to  him  were  full  of  the  unseen,  all- 
enveloping  Divinity.  He  does  not  at  once  per- 
ceive that  around  and  above  this  enlarged  scope 
of  his  knowledge  clouds  and  darkness  still  rest; 
that  the  realm  of  the  unknown  has  only  been 
magnified  by  the  expansion  of  the  realm  of  the 
known ;  that  every  ascertained  truth  abuts  upon 
causes  and  forces  still  wrapped  in  a  mystery  of 
which  God  is  the  only  solution.  Thus  a  tendency 
to  irreverence  always  succeeds  the  occupancy  of 
new  fields  by  science,  and  lasts  so  long  as  science 
busies  itself  in  taking  possession  of  these  fields, 
establishing  its  stations  and  its  landmarks,  verify- 
ing its  conclusions,  codifying  its  laws.  The  scien- 
tific mind  has  then  its  aphelion  and  its  perigee. 
But  when,  grown  familiar  with  its  acquisitions,  it 
again  seeks  to  enlarge  its  domain,  it  finds  itself 
again  enveloped  in  the  immense  and  the  infinite, 
it  again  grows  worshipful,  and  explores  the  un- 
known with  unshodden  feet  and  eyes  suffused  with 
reverent  awe,  until  it  has  made  new  conquests,  and 


36  RELIGIOUS  REVERENCE. 

cleared  for  itself  a  larger,  higher  range  of  vision 
than  it  had  imagined  before.  But  however  fiir  sci- 
ence may  extend  her  sway,  there  still  remains  the 
First  Cause  of  all  causes,  the  efficient  Force  of  all 
forces,  the  Source  of  all  being,  the  creating,  co- 
ordinating, governing  Energy,  which  eludes  her 
analysis,  yet  exists  as  the  necessary  complement 
of  her  knowledge,  —  a  knowledge  which  has  its 
consummation  and  crown  only  in  lowly  and  ador- 
ing faith.  Reverence  and  science  have  no  essen- 
tial antagonism,  and  cannot  be  permanently  or 
long  divorced.  Though  there  may  be,  as  I  have 
said,  certain  stages  of  scientific  research  that  are 
unfavorable  to  religious  awe  and  devotion,  the 
faith  on  which  they  rest  has  no  ground  for  fear 
from  the  boldest  speculations  or  the  most  icon- 
oclastic theories. 

I  cannot,  as  a  believer  in  God  and  in  revelation, 
find  aught  to  shake  my  faith  or  to  impair  my  rev- 
erence in  the  hypotheses  of  Darwin  and  Huxley, 
even  were  they  as  firmly  established  as  the  law  of 
gravitation.  Let  me  say,  in  passing,  that  they 
leave  even  the  Mosaic  narrative  of  the  creation 
unimpeached  as  a  monument  of  true  religious 
knowledge  and  a  sublime  expression  of  monothe- 
istic faith,  which  must  have  had  its  inspiration 
from  on  high  ;  for  the  object  of  the  author  of  the 
Pentateuch  was,  obviously,  not  to  write  a  scien- 


RELIGIOUS  BEVERENCE.  37 

tific  cosmogony,  but  to  attach  the  name  and  image 
of  God  the  Creator  to  the  heavenly  bodies  and  the 
objects  in  the  animal  and  vegetable  kingdoms 
which  surrounding  nations  had  deified,  and  thus 
to  bar  out  the  possibility  of  various  prevailing 
forms  of  false  worship,  —  an  end  which  he  still 
farther  pursues  by  specifying  and  stamping  with 
the  sure  impress  of  humanity  (wherever  possi- 
ble, with  the  loathed  brand  of  Cain)  the  invent- 
ors of  arts  and  trades  and  the  founders  of  races, 
who  had  also  been  deified.  To  return  from  this 
digression,  if  creation  was  development,  it  was 
none  the  less  creation.  If  all  forms  of  being 
have  been  evolved  from  primeval  atoms  by  nat- 
ural laws,  there  still  remains  the  question. 
Whence  these  laws  ?  whence  these  plastic  ten- 
dencies ?  For  in  the  atoms  or  monads  must  have 
been  lodged  the  germs  of  life  in  all  its  varied 
forms,  of  motion,  instinct,  intelligence,  reason, 
will,  philosophy,  love,  piety.  While  I  see  no 
adequate  proof  of  this,  and  must  therefore  — 
till  better  advised  —  adhere  to  my  old  faith  in 
specific  creation,  I  cannot  in  thought  take  my 
stand  beyond  the  seons  of  development  in  the  im- 
measurable past,  and  behold  the  nebulous  mass 
whence  should  spring  by  successive  evolutions  all 
the  beauty,  harmony,  and  glory  of  the  outward 
universe,    all   the   great   minds    and   noble    souls 


88  RELIGIOUS  REVERENCE. 

that  constitute  a  riclier,  grander  universe,  without 
feeling  the  shaping  breath  of  tlie  Infinite  Spirit 
brooding  over  the  weltering  chaos,  —  without  be- 
holding the  Eternal  Wisdom  endowing  these 
lifeless  atoms  with  their  plastic  nisus,  ordaining 
their  courses,  combinations,  and  issues,  holding  in 
j)rescience  and  purpose  all  that  they  were  to  be- 
come in  the  lapse  of  untold  ages.  If,  where  every 
thing  is  infinite,  the  distinction  of  more  or  less 
could  be  affirmed,  I  should  even  say  that,  did  I  see 
reason  for  resolving  all  specific  creations  into  one, 
it  would  only  give  me  a  more  vast  and  overwhelm- 
ing sense  of  the  immeasurable  power,  wisdom, 
providence,  love  of  the  Creator. 

However  the  cause  of  irreverence  of  which  I 
have  been  speaking  may  have  its  temporary  effect 
in  scientific  circles,  a  cause  of  much  wider  influ- 
ence is  to  be  found  in  the  present  transition  stage 
of  our  political  life.  Under  monarchical  and  aris- 
tocratic institutions  there  was  a  discipline  of  mind 
and  character  in  the  reverence  for  office,  station, 
and  rank,  and  for  men  as  their  representatives,  and 
tliis  constant  submission  and  uplooking  were  fa- 
vorable to  the  reverential  element  in  religion, 
though  not,  it  may  be,  to  the  more  intelligent  and 
worthy  forms  of  that  sentiment.  The  awe  thus 
inspired  and  cherished,  though  with  slender  foun- 
dation  manward,   and   greatly  misdirected    God- 


BELIGIOUS  REVERENCE.  89 

ward,  was  yet  very  far  preferable  to  the  ■  spirit 
which  fears  neither  God  nor  man.  We  have  most 
happily  escaped  the  thraldom  of  the  Old  World ; 
and  the  sporadic  man-Avorship  in  which  we  in- 
dulged for  the  first  half-century  of  our  national 
life  has  worn  itself  out,  as  we  have  discovered 
that  our  idols,  like  those  of  Nebuchadnezzar's 
dream,  if  made  in  part  of  gold,  are  in  very  large 
part  of  miry  clay.  We  have  come  to  treat  our  great 
men  as  the  Chinese  treat  their  images,  —  cring- 
ing before  them  while  they  serve  and  satisfy  us, 
scourging  them  when  they  fail  to  do  our  bidding. 
We  are  to  grow,  I  trust,  into  that  true  loyalty, 
that  reverence  for  law  as  independent  of  its 
makers  or  its  satellites,  which  alone  can  save, 
exalt,  and  glorify  the  state.  But  this  reverence 
cannot  subsist  as  an  impersonal  sentiment.  It 
must  mount  to  Him  in  whom  law  resides,  from 
whom  it  flows,  to  whom  it  is  amenable,  whose 
omniscience  alone  can  make  it  unerring,  whose 
power  must  energize  it  in  the  human  conscience 
and  will,  whose  providence  must  annex  to  it  the 
sanctions  of  a  righteous  retribution.  So  fast  as 
we  become  a  law-loving  and  law-abiding  people 
(and  on  this  condition  depends  not  our  ascen- 
dency, but  our  very  existence  as  a  nation),  so  fast 
shall  we  grow  religiously  reverent  and  God- 
fearing. 


40  BELIQIOUS  REVERENCE. 

Another  reason  for  the  decline  of  reverence 
among  us  has  been  the  decline  of  parental  author- 
ity and  domestic  discipline.  The  earthly  family  is 
the  type  of  the  spiritual  family ;  the  human  par- 
ent, of  the  heavenly  Father.  The  lessons  of  faith 
and  trust,  submission  and  reverence,  which  are  the 
law  of  the  religious  life,  are  best  learned  in  the 
gentle  authority  and  the  genial  confidence  and 
obedience  of  the  well-ordered  household.  So  far 
as  the  divinely  established  order  of  the  human 
family  is  reversed,  and  the  freaks  of  childhood  and 
the  fancies  of  youth  are  permitted  to  set  aside  the 
prudence  and  wisdom  of  maturer  years,  parents 
obeying  their  children,  and  the  elder  serving  the 
younger,  —  so  far  is  the  order  of  God's  spiritual 
family  subverted,  —  doubt  precedes  faith,  pre- 
sumption outgrows  reverence,  free  discussion  is 
placed  before  worship,  and  religion  loses  its  hold 
on  the  general  mind. 

The  parental  relation  in  New  England  had,  in 
former  times,  much  of  the  prestige  of  the  priestly 
office.  The  rites  of  domestic  piety  were  observed 
much  more  generally  than  now;  and  in  every 
household  not  scandalously  irreligious  there  was 
on  Sunday  an  hour  after  the  second  church-service 
devoted  to  the  religious  instruction  of  the  chil- 
dren, —  a  precious  hour  for  the  growth  of  rever- 
ence and  piety,  still  held  in  hallowed  memory  by 


RELIGIOUS  RE VE HENCE.  41 

the  fast  vanishing  generation  of  those  who  knew 
its  blessedness.  Our  Sunday  schools  at  first 
generally  appropriated  for  themselves  that  hour, 
which  is  now  so  far  secularized  that  they  have 
been  as  generally  driven  back  to  an  earlier  portion 
of  the  sacred  day.  By  invading  the  established, 
and  in  many  families  the  only  possible,  season  for 
domestic  teaching,  they  undermined  and  have 
wellnigh  destroyed  the  habit,  and  have  thus  sepa- 
rated parents  and  children  in  that  very  relation 
in  which  filial  reverence  had  its  surest  growth. 
I  prize  Sunday  schools  as  the  best  means  of 
religious  culture  left  to  us,  and  I  Avould  do  all  in 
my  poAver  to  strengthen  their  influence  and  to 
increase  their  capacity  of  usefulness.  But  their 
office  is  very  much  that  of  the  ship  that  runs 
another  down,  and  then  picks  up  all  that  she  can 
of  the  other's  passengers  and  freight.  I  cannot 
but  believe  that  if  our  Sunday  schools,  like  the 
English,  had  been  opened  only  for  children  of 
the  unprivileged  classes,  and  if  the  season  once  so 
sacred  for  the  offices  of  home-piety  had  never 
been  disturbed,  we  should  have  at  this  day  been  a 
more  reverent  people  than  we  are. 

There  is,  also,  a  style  of  religious  instruction  for 
the  young,  which  generates  irreverence.  I  refer 
to  the  mania  for  explanation,  Avhich  belittles  all 
that  is  great  and  degrades  all  that  is  lofty,  in  the 


42  RELIOIOUS  REVERENCE. 

endeavor  to  make  truths  vast  as  immensity  and 
eternity  comprehensible  by  the  youngest  and 
feeblest  mind.  This  bad  work  is  often  still  far- 
ther vitiated  by  stale  and  paltry  anecdotes  and 
trivial  illustrations,  even  by  ghastly  attempts  at 
wit  and  humor,  as  if  mirth  were  the  only  avenue 
to  a  child's  mind,  and  yet  that  avenue  were 
broad  as  the  vestibule  of  an  archangel's  intel- 
lect. Clear  and  definite  teaching  as  to  all  that  he 
can  comprehend  is,  indeed,  due  to  the  child.  But 
it  is  also  due  to  him,  that  he  be  trained  in  faith 
and  reverence,  —  that  he  learn  that  there  are 
things  which  he  cannot  know  now,  but  will  know 
hereafter ;  things,  too,  into  which  his  mind  may 
grow  and  keep  on  growing,  at  least  through  the 
whole  of  his  earthly  life,  without  fully  compre- 
hending them.  Truths  that  embrace  all  space  and 
time  and  being  cannot  be  condensed  within  the 
scanty  capacity  of  an  infant  mind,  and  when  these 
great  truths  are  so  compressed  and  mutilated  as  to 
fit  roundly  and  compactly  into  the  child's  intel- 
lect, and  to  make  him  imagine  that  he  understands 
them,  he  outgrows  them  as  his  mind  grows,  and  in 
his  maturity  throws  them  aside  with  other  child- 
ish things.  When  knowledge  and  faith  shall  take 
their  proper  relative  places  in  religious  education, 
we  may  hope  for  a  revival  of  the  spirit  of  rev- 
erence. 


BELIGIOUS  REVERENCE.  43 

In  considering  the  causes  of  the  decline  of  rev- 
erence, I  have  left  myself  no  space  for  urging  upon 
you  this  primal  obligation  of  the  religious  life. 
Yet  what  more  can  we  need  than  the  clear  recog- 
nition of  the  being,  presence,  and  providence  of 
God  ?  If  there  is  One,  by  and  in  whom  alone  I 
live ;  to  whom  my  whole  consciousness  lies  open ; 
whose  power  and  love  throb  alike  in  every  pulse 
of  light  from  the  far-off  stars  and  in  every  beat  of 
my  own  heart ;  to  whom  there  is  no  far  nor  near, 
no  great  nor  small ;  to  whom  my  least  needs  are 
known  and  my  least  desires  precious  ;  who  is  to 
me  more  than  I  can  comprehend  in  the  dearest 
names  of  human  love,  and  is  no  less  the  tender  and 
compassionate  Father  of  myriads  upon  myriads  in 
every  realm  of  his  universe,  —  to  feel  all  this  is  to 
worship  and  adore,  and  to  say  in  profoundest  rev- 
erence, "  Hallowed  be  thy  name." 

There  remains  a  single  topic,  to  which  in  closing 
I  must  make  the  briefest  possible,  yet  the  most 
solemn  and  emphatic,  reference.  I  said  in  the  be- 
ginning of  my  discourse  that  the  word  name  is  but 
a  Hebraism  for  Him  who  bears  the  name.  Hebra- 
ism though  it  be  in  form,  it  is  universal  in  its 
sense.  It  underlies  the  laws  of  thought  and  feel- 
ing. As  we  think  in  words,  so  words  shape  our 
thoughts.  As  the  name  of  a  person  is  treated,  so 
is  he  regarded.     Trifling  with  a  name  is  disrespect 


44  BELIOIOUS  REVERENCE. 

to  the  person  to  whom  it  belongs.  In  the  filial 
relation  irreverence  in  speech  and  the  correspond- 
ing deficiency  in  conduct  uniformly  coincide,  the 
two  being  reciprocally  cause  and  effect.  The 
former,  however,  would  of  itself  produce  the  lat- 
ter. Were  a  son  who  really  honored  his  father  and 
mother  tempted  by  bad  example  to  talk  flippantly 
about  them,  and  to  call  them  by  names  unworthy 
so  sacred  a  relation,  irreverence  in  feeling  and 
conduct  would  be  the  swift  and  inevitable  conse- 
quence. The  Hebrews  dared  not  pronounce,  even 
on  solemn  occasions  or  in  reading  the  Scriptures, 
Jehovah,  the  most  sacred  name  of  God, — a  reti- 
cence which  must  have  made  blasphemy  the  rarest 
of  sins.  Would  that  we  might  take  a  lesson  from 
them  as  to  the  needless  use  of  the  divine  name, 
even  at  sacred  times  and  on  sacred  themes,  much 
more  as  to  its  utterance  on  ordinary  occasions  ! 
The  frivolous  or  profane  use  of  that  name  cannot 
long  coexist  with  a  reverent  spirit.  The  Being, 
invoked  in  mere  wantonness,  becomes  belittled  in 
thought.  Profaneness  of  speech  early  and  of 
necessity  lapses  into  practical  atheism ;  that  is,  into 
the  loss  of  all  serious  convictions  and  impressions 
in  every  department  of  religious  thought,  and  an 
incapacity  of  resorting  to  religious  motives  and 
sentiments  for  strength  or  for  consolation  in  time 
of  need.     Profane  speech,  always  vulgar,  coarse, 


jRELIGIOUS  BEVERENCE.  45 

and  insolent,  is  a  social  offence  against  which  no 
stress  of  indignation  can  be  excessive.  As  lese- 
majesty  against  the  Sovereign  of  the  universe,  it  is 
the  climax  of  human  audacity.  As  a  sin  against 
one's  own  soul,  I  will  not  say  that  it  is  irrepara- 
ble ;  for  I  do  not  believe  that  recuperative  power 
is  denied  to  any  being  under  the  reign  of  Infinite 
Love :  but  of  all  forms  of  guilt  and  wrong  it  has 
this  bad  pre-eminence,  that  it  fouls  the  only  foun- 
tain for  its  own  cleansing,  —  desecrates  the  very 
shrine  before  which  lowly,  awe-stricken  worship 
is  its  only  token  of  repentance  and  condition  of 
forgiveness. 


46  THE  EFFICACY  OF  PRAYER. 


lY. 

TH.E    EFFICACY    OF    PRAYER. 

"  What  profit  should  we  have,  if  ice  pray  unto  him  ?  "  —  Job  xxi.  1 5. 

'TPHERE  appeared  not  long  ago,  under  the  sanc- 
tion  of  Professor  Tjndall,  a  proposal  to  sub- 
ject the  ef&cacy  of  prayer  to  the  test  of  experiment. 
The  article,  I  confess,  seemed  to  me  remarkable 
only  for  its  entire  misapprehension  of  the  subject  in 
all  its  relations  and  bearings,  and  a  paper  equally 
unphilosophical  in  behalf  of  any  religious  dogma 
"would  have  subjected  the  writer  and  his  cause  to 
unmerciful  ridicule.  Yet  so  much  has  been  said 
and  written  about  tliis  article,  and  I  have  been  so 
often  questioned  concerning  it  by  persons  disposed 
to  give  it  serious  consideration,  that  I  have  reluc- 
tantly concluded  that  it  was  my  duty  to  take  notice 
of  it  in  the  pulpit. 

The  proposal  urged  by  the  writer  is  to  make 
trial  of  praj^er  in  the  wards  of  a  hospital,  or  among 
the  patients  suffering  under  some  prevalent  disease, 
in  very  much  the  same  way  in  which  a  new  mode 
of  medical  treatment  is  tested,  and  to  compare  the 


THE  EFFICACY  OF  PRAYER.  4T 

deatli-rate,  or  the  percentage  of  recovery,  or  the 
rapidity  of  convalescence  among  the  persons  spe- 
cially prayed  for,  with  corresponding  statistics 
among  persons  in  like  condition  outside  of  the  pale 
of  special  prayer. 

The  first  and  most  obvious  answer  to  this  pro- 
posal is,  that  it  is  in  its  very  terms  an  absurdity, 
and  that  the  experiment  suggested  by  it  is  in  the 
nature  of  things  impossible.  Prayer  offered  for  the 
purpose  of  testing  its  efficacy  would  have  none  of 
the  characteristics  of  prayer ;  but  were  it  classed 
where  it  belongs,  it  would  be  under  the  head  of 
blasphemy,  and  among  the  things  forbidden  in 
the  precept,  "  Thou  shalt  not  tempt  the  Lord  thy 
God."  Suppose  a  similar  case  in  a  human  fam- 
ily. Suppose  a  boy  making  certain  requests  of  his 
father,  on  a  wager  with  another  boy,  to  see  hoAV 
much  more  he  can  get  by  the  asking  than  the  other 
can  get  without  asking.  What  filial  element,  think 
you,  would  there  be  in  such  an  experiment  ?  So 
far  from  lending  himself  to  it,  the  father's  whole 
soul  would  rise  up  against  it,  and  that  not  because 
of  any  human  infirmity,  but  because  of  the  most 
truly  divine  side  of  his  nature ;  because  of  the  very 
fatherhood  in  which  he  is  a  type  of  the  Supreme 
Father,  and  which  in  its  love  and  benignity  would 
be  insulted  and  outraged  by  being  made  subject  to 
such  a  test.     In  the  experiment  proposed,  the  men 


48      '  TEE  EFFICACY  OF  PRAYER. 

•who  pray  must  either  themselves  lack  faith,  in 
which  case  their  (so-called)  prayer  is  no  prayer; 
for  common  sense  no  less  than  holy  writ  tells  us, 
that  "  he  that  cometh  to  God  must  believe  that  he 
is,  and  that  he  is  a  rewarder  of  them  that  diligently 
seek  him ; "  or  else,  having  faith,  they  must  lack 
the  singleness  of  purpose  which  is  essential  to 
prayer, —  they  must  pra}^,  not  from  love  for  the  sick 
alone,  but  much  more  in  the  hope  of  sustaining 
their  side  of  the  dispute,  —  of  making  God  the 
visible  umpire  in  their  favor  in  a  controversy  in 
which  his  providence  is  called  in  question, — a 
lower  type  of  anthropomorphism  than  is  consistent 
with  intelligent  and  reverent  theism. 

I  would  maintain,  however,  that  though  a  for- 
mal experiment  of  this  kind  could  not  be  made,  a 
virtual  experiment  of  the  same  kind  is  uncon- 
sciously going  on  all  the  time,  and  under  circum- 
stances which,  on  admitted  principles  and  by  the 
recognized  laws  of  causation,  must  constantly  pro- 
duce a  result  in  favor  of  prayer.  There  are  sick 
persons  who  are,  so  to  speak,  surrounded  by  an 
atmosphere  of  prayer.  The  loving  providence  of 
God  is  owned  in  every  change  of  their  condition, 
hopeful  or  adverse,  and  the  blessing  of  God  is  fer- 
vently implored  in  connection  with  every  ministry 
employed  for  their  relief.  There  are  others  who, 
in  their  sicknesses,  are  prayed  for,  if  at  all,  not 


THE  EFFICACY  OF  PRAYER,  49 

constantly,  nor  by  those  in  immediate  relation  with 
them,  but  only  by  the  Church  at  large,  in  common 
with  all  that  suffer,  or,  it  may  be,  at  rare  intervals 
by  some  Christian  friend.  Now  in  the  case  of  the 
former,  the  spirit  of  prayer  is  also  a  spirit  of  calm- 
ness, self-possession,  love,  tenderness,  unceasing- 
vigilance,  by  whose  agency  every  available  resource 
of  care  and  skill  is  sought  and  employed.  In  the 
case  of  the  latter,  these  qualities  may  be  present, 
some  or  all ;  but  they  are  more  likely  to  be  want- 
ing than  in  the "  other  case ;  for  among  those  who 
are  not  specially  prayed  for  would  be  included 
almost  all  who  are  neglected,  or  cared  for  as  a  mere 
task-work,  or  attended,  if  assiduously,  with  per- 
petual trepidation  and  alarm.  Thus,  until  some 
more  faithful  and  kindly  guardianship  than  Chris- 
tian love  can  be  put  into  exercise,  the  statistics  of 
prayer  for  the  sick,  could  they  be  collected,  would 
be  eminently  favorable  to  prayer.  Among  the 
wounded  and  maimed  in  our  late  war,  how  many 
lives  rescued  from  the  jaws  of  death  are  confessedly 
due  to  the  tender  care  of  the  true  heroes  of  that 
conflict,  —  those  whose  sole  mission  was  to  save,  not 
to  destroy!  The  statistics  of  their  ministrations 
would  show  a  striking  comparison,  or,  I  would 
rather  say,  contrast,  in  their  favor,  when  placed 
beside  those  of  the  hos^jitals  where  there  was  equal 
skill,  but  not  equal  love.     And  think  you  not  that 

3  D 


50      ^  THE  EFFICACY  OF  PRAYER. 

those  loving  hearts  bore  the  nurslings  of  their  char- 
ity in  perpetual  prayer  to  the  Author  of  all  good, 
and  that  it  was  the  breath  of  their  prayer  that 
gave  them  wisdom,  strength,  patience,  and  hopeful- 
ness? 

What  if  prayer  for  the  sick  has  no  other  efficacy 
than  this  ?  Is  it  therefore  offered  in  vain  ?  If  it 
insjjires,  energizes,  sustains  the  healers,  is  it  not 
doubly  efficacious?  If  a  son  could  place  himself 
in  such  a  position  with  reference  to  his  father,  that, 
instead  of  receiving  support  or  help  directly  from 
him,  he  was  able  by  the  inspiration  of  his  sonship, 
by  the  power  of  the  filial  spirit  in  him,  to  sustain 
himself  in  difficult  situations,  and  often  to  succeed 
and  prosper  where  otherwise  he  must  have  failed, 
would  not  that  father  have  done  immeasurably 
better  for  his  son  and  for  all  who  could  be  profited 
by  his  son's  influence,  than  he  could  possibly  have 
done  by  the  direct  conferment  of  benefits  on  him 
or  on  them?  Now,  however  it  may  be  accounted 
for,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  prayer  does  give 
strength,  patience,  resource,  love ;  that  the  man 
who  sincerely  prays  can  do  more  and  better  than 
he  who  does  not  pray ;  and  that  although  prayer 
does  not  prevent  calamity,  sorrow,  bereavement, 
yet  through  the  energy  which  it  inspires  and  the 
affection  which  it  feeds,  it  is  also  richly  fraught 
with  temporal  blessings. 


THE  EFFICACY  OF  PRAYER.  51 

Do  you  say  that  this  is  in  accordance  with  natural 
laws  ?  This  is  precisely  what  I  believe  and  main- 
tain. I  believe  that  there  is  not  a  law  of  nature 
more  simple,  obvious,  easy  of  comprehension  and 
uniform  in  its  operation,  than  that  trust  in  Omnip- 
otence imparts  strength,  that  repose  on  Infinite 
Love  gives  peace,  that  the  singleness  and  pure- 
ness  of  heart  which  cannot  but  flow  from  prayer 
may  make  one  master  of  circumstances  to  which 
he  would  else  be  a  slave  or  a  victim,  and  con- 
queror in  the  conflict  in  which  he  would  otherwise 
succumb.  In  referring  the  efficacy  of  prayer  to 
natural  laws,  we  place  it  in  the  highest  position  of 
absolute  oertainty  which  it  can  hold ;  for  to  him 
who  believes  in  God  natural  laws  are  but  the  self- 
consistent  and  uniform  administration  of  immuta- 
ble and  infinite  Wisdom  and  Love.  Moral  agency 
could  be  exercised,  moral  excellence  matured, 
only  in  a  law-governed  universe.  The  direct  and 
visible  answer  to  prayer  would  unsettle  human 
agency,  discourage  human  activity,  and  convert 
the  devout  from  vigorous  workers  to  passive  wait- 
ers on  Providence.  Weie  prayer  for  temporal 
blessings  often  so  directly  answered  that  it  could 
be  relied  on  with  some  good  degree  of  probabil- 
ity, there  would  be  a  diminished  diligence  on  the 
part  of  those  who  prayed,  and,  when  the  prayer 
was  not  answered,  an   imeasy   apjjrehension  that 


62  THE  EFFICACY  OF  PRAYER. 

the  calamity  which  might  have  been  averted  was 
a  special  token  of  the  divine  displeasure. 

Meanwhile,  the  believer  in  a  God  who  is  truly 
God  must  regard  the  laws  of  nature  as  not  limits 
or  hinderances  to  his  mercy,  but  only  as  the  ways 
in  which  he  sees  fit  to  bestow  his  benefits.  Far 
behind  the  proximate  causes  which  alone  we  can 
trace,  there  is  ample  scope  for  the  exercise  of  a 
discretionary  providence  ;  and  if  there  be  gifts  or 
benefits,  wdiich,  asked  in  prayer  and  owned  in 
praise,  will  be  substantial  blessings,  yet,  received 
without  prayer  or  praise,  would  be  not  goods, 
but  evils,  it  is  certainly  reasonable  to  beheve 
that  in  such  cases  prayer  may  have  its  specific 
answer. 

But  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  this  specific 
answer  is  nowhere  promised  by  our  Saviour.  It  is 
of  the  Holy  Spirit,  of  the  inward  strength  and  peace 
of  which  no  sincere  supplicant  has  ever  failed, 
that  Jesus  says,  "  Every  one  that  asketh,receiveth; 
and  he  that  seeketh,  findeth."  Indeed,  we  have 
instances  in  the  sacred  record,  in  which  prayer  for 
deliverance  from  physical  evil  was  answered  only 
by  the  conferment  of  spiritual  might.  Jesus  him- 
self prayed  that  the  cup  might  pass  from  him ;  the 
answer  was  the  "  angel  from  heaven  strengthening 
him,"  and  the  sublime  peace  and  serene  triumph 
of  Calvary.     St.  Paul  records  his  own  prayer  that 


THE  EFFICACY  OF  PRAYER.  53 

the  "  tliorn  in  the  flesh"  —  evidently  some  bodily 
infirmity  which  threatened  to  destroy  or  impair  his 
usefulness — might  be  taken  from  him;  the  answer 
was,  "  My  grace  is  sufficient  for  thee ;  for  my 
strength  is  made  perfect  in  weakness ; "  and  he 
thenceforward  could  say,  "  I  will  rather  glory  in 
my  infirmities,  that  the  power  of  Christ  may  rest 
upon  me." 

There  is  but  one  passage  in  the  New  Testament 
that  would  seem  to  cherish  the  belief  in  the  spe- 
cific and  calculable  efficacy  of  prayer  for  the  sick. 
It  is  in  the  Epistle  of  James  :  "  Is  any  sick  among 
you?  Let  him  call  for  the  elders  of  the  church, 
and  let  them  pray  over  him,  anointing  him  with 
oil  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  ;  and  the  prayer  of 
faith  shall  save  the  sick,  and  the  Lord  shall  raise 
him  up,  and  if  he  have  committed  sins,  they  shall 
be  forgiven  him."  I  will  not  say  that  the  genu- 
ineness of  this  epistle  has  been  questioned ;  for  I 
do  not  question  it.  Whether  it  were  written  by 
James  or  by  some  other  disciple,  it  is  pre-emi- 
nently apostolic  and  Christian,  and  I  have  not  the 
slightest  doubt  that  it  came  from  some  one  of 
those  who  were  most  intimately  conversant  with 
the  mind  of  Christ.  But  there  are  several  things 
that  ought  to  be  said  about  the  passage  that  I  have 
quoted. 

1.   The  assertion  is  by  no  means  as  strong  in 


64  THE  EFFICACY  OF  PRAYER, 

the  original  as  in  the  translation.  Shall  implies 
certainty ;  while  the  words  are  simply  in  the  com- 
mon form  of  the  future,  will  save,  will  raise  him  up, 
—  a  form  which  often  denotes  not  assurance,  but 
merely  hope,  as  when  we  say,  "  This  will  do  3'ou 
good,"  meaning,  "I  hope  it  will." 

2.  I  am  by  no  means  certain  that  the  words 
used  by  St.  James  have  any  reference  at  all  to  the 
restoration  of  bodily  health.  The  word  rendered 
save  is  almost  always  used  in  the  New  Testament 
in  a  spiritual  sense ;  the  word  rendered  raise  up 
is  often  so  used ;  and  as  they  both  stand  in  close 
connection  with  the  forgiveness  of  sins,  we  may 
easily  understand  the  passage  as  expressing  the 
hope  that  through  the  prayer  of  faith  the  sick  per- 
son may  be  led  to  spiritual  salvation,  raised  to  a 
participation  in  the  life  over  which  death  has  no 
power,  and  brought  into  that  penitent  and  recon- 
ciled condition  of  soul  in  which  his  sins  will  be 
forgiven.  This  view  is  confirmed  by  what  fol- 
lows, in  illustration  of  the  tendency  of  a  living  faith 
to  awaken  or  revive  faith  in  those  who  lack  it, 
and,  I  think,  with  reference  to  what  has  just  been 
said  of  the  renovating  power  of  the  prayer  of 
faith  by  the  bedside  of  the  sick.  "  Brethren,  if  any 
of  you  do  err  from  the  truth,  and  one  convert  him, 
let  him  know  that  he  which  converteth  a  sinner 
from  the  error  of  his  ways  shall  save  his  soul  from 


THE  EFFICACY  OF  PRATER.  55 

deatli  (that  same  word  save  again,  and  is  it  not  in 
the  same  sense  ?)  and  shall  hide  a  multitude  of 
sins." 

3.  If  this  exposition,  which  seems  to  me  sound 
and  satisfying,  be  not  admitted,  we  may  suppose 
that  there  was  reference  to  the  exertion  of  extraor- 
dinary gifts  of  healing,  which,  it  is  believed  by 
many,  Avere  bestowed  and  exercised  in  the  primi- 
tive Church,  while  peculiar  manifestations  of  the 
divine  power  were  needed  for  the  defence  and 
propagation  of  the  infant  faith. 

I  cannot  then  regard  tliis  passage  of  St.  James 
as  affording  any  ground  for  the  expectation  of  a 
direct  and  distinctly  recognizable  answer  to  prayer 
for  the  sick,  in  the  restoration  of  bodily  health,  or 
as  authorizing  objectors  in  charging  upon  Chris- 
tianity or  its  records  whatever  of  falseness  and 
absurdity  there  may  be  in  such  an  expectation ; 
though,  in  the  sense  in  which  I  understand  it, 
it  certainly  prescribes  and  encourages  prayer  for 
and  with  the  sick,  that  the  afflictive  visitation  of 
Providence  may  be  the  means  of  spiritual  benefit, 
whether  in  life  or  in  death. 

Let  us  now  consider  what,  as  Christians,  and 
on  the  authority  of  our  Divine  Master  and  of 
those  personally  conversant  with  his  teachings,  we 
may  affirm  and  expect  as  to  the  efficacy  of  prayer. 

In  the  first  place,  we  have  no  reason  to  believe 


66  THE  EFFICACY  OF  PRAYER. 

that  prayer  for  spiritual  guidance  and  blessing 
ever  fails  of  efficacy.  There  is  here,  indeed,  no 
possibility  of  collecting  statistics ;  for  such  prayer 
is  of  necessity  offered  in  secret,  and  public  or 
social  prayer,  so  far  from  being  its  criterion,  may 
be  either  its  vehicle  or  its  substitute.  But  we  do 
not  find  that  praying  men  and  women  complain 
that  in  this  respect  their  prayers  are  not  an- 
swered, or  desist  from  prajdng  because  it  does 
them  no  good.  Nor  have  we  any  ground  for  be- 
lieving that  men  sincerely  pray  and  sin  at  the  same 
time.  On  the  other  hand,  did  we  have  reason  to 
suppose  that  a  man  was  constant  and  earnest  in 
prayer,  we  should  expect  to  see  in  his  life  the 
tokens  of  superior  excellence.  There  can  be  no 
question  that,  were  prayer  abolished,  there  would 
be  an  immediate  deterioration  of  character.  The 
Titanic  strensrth  of  the  earth-born  and  earth- 
grovelling  would  be  but  a  poor  substitute  for 
the  fire  from  heaven. 

In  the  next  place,  there  are  hardly  any  temporal 
blessings  or  advantages  —  not  even  health  and 
length  of  days  for  one's  self  or  for  others  —  that  are 
not  visibly  contingent  in  a  greater  or  less  degree  on 
character;  and  if  prayer  at  once  intenerates,  sweet- 
ens, energizes,  and  elevates  character,  so  that  in 
this  sense  he  who  asks  always  receives,  then  are 
such  temporal  benefits  as  flow  more  or  less  dii-ectly 


THE  EFFICACY  OF  PRAYER.  57 

from  character  as  truly  answers  to  prayer,  as  if 
they  were  bestowed  immediately  from  heaven, — 
with  this  important  difference  in  their  favor,  that 
they  give  man  the  happiness  of  being  not  only  the 
recipient,  but  the  creator,  of  the  goods  he  enjoys, 
and  not  only  the  well-wisher,  but  the  actual  bene- 
factor, of  those  for  whom  he  intercedes. 

There  still  remain  blessings,  exemptions,  deliv- 
erances, not  contingent  on  causes  under  our  con- 
trol. As  to  these  no  intelligent  believer  in  God 
can  imagine  that  they  occur  by  the  inevitable  action 
of  automatic  forces.  Though  we  see  only  the 
wheels,  we  doubt  not  that  the  Living  Spirit  is  in 
the  wheels.  Wisdom  and  mercy  guide  them.  By 
them  God  raises  men  up  and  brings  them  low,  kills 
and  restores,  confers  manifest  good  and  inflicts 
seeming  evil,  with  reference,  we  cannot  doubt,  to 
the  needs  of  those  thus  disciplined,  and  with  a  view 
to  their  highest  and  eternal  benefit.  Here,  though 
we  may  not  fix  upon  single  events  or  blessings,  and 
say,  '-'-  This  I  shall  obtain  if  I  pray  for  it,"  or  "  This 
I  have  obtained  by  praying  for  it,"  we  cannot  rea- 
sonably doubt  that  the  prayers  of  his  children  are 
recognized  in  the  ]providence  of  God.  If  the  objec- 
tion be  raised  that  the  preordination  of  the  course 
of  events  precludes  the  efficacy  of  prayer,  we  may 
reply,  that  there  can  be  no  preordination  without 
foreknowledge,  and  that  in  the  divine  purposes 
3* 


68  THE  EFFICACY  OF  PRAYER. 

the  foreknowledge  of  human  piety  may  have  its 
part,  no  less  than  the  foreknowledge  of  human 
industry  and  thrift. 

We  have,  then,  reason  to  "  pray  always,  with  all 
prayer  and  supplication."  We  need  never  fear 
that  our  prayer  will  return  to  us  void.  That  a 
specific  petition  Avill  be  granted,  it  were  arrogant 
for  us  ever  to  assert  with  confidence  ;  for  to  main- 
tain that  it  is  best  for  ourselves  that  it  be  granted, 
is  an  assumption  of  omniscience.  But  prayer  can 
never  fail  to  fit  us  to  utilize  all  that  God  gives  to 
its  utmost  capacit}^  and  to  make  privation  or 
calamity  equally  the  medium  of  his  love  and  the 
nourishment  of  our  faith,  trust,  and  piety. 


DIVINE    PROVIDENCE.  59 


SUBMISSION    TO    THE    DIVINE    PROVIDENCE. 

"  The  cup  which  my  Father  hath  given  me,  shall  I  not  drink  it  ?  "  — 
John  xviii.  11. 

TT  is  too  muoli  the  habit  of  the  Christian  pulpit 
to  treat  of  resignation  to  the  divine  will  only 
under  the  shadow  of  recent  death  or  calamity ;  and 
such  resignation  is  too  often  regarded  as  the  special 
duty  of  certain  emergencies,  rather  than  as  one  due 
from  all  of  us  at  not  infrequent  intervals,  and  from 
some  of  us  every  day  of  our  lives.  It  is  not  by 
any  means  those  alone  who  wear  the  badge  of 
recent  sorrow,  or  whom  the  world  reckons  among 
the  afflicted,  that  need  to  take  upon  their  lips  and 
into  their  hearts  the  words  of  our  text.  Grief  long 
outlasts  its  tokens,  and  presses  heavily  on  many 
souls  that  give  no  sign.  The  great  sorrows  of  life 
are  often  most  severely  felt  after  they  seem  obso- 
lete. There  are  bereavements  of  which  the  lone- 
liness, the  desolation  is  but  imperfectly  realized 
while  the  flow  of  sympathy  is  fresh  and  full,  but 


60  SUBMISSION  TO  THE 

rests  witli  a  deepening  shadow  thenceonward 
through  life. 

Then,  too,  there  are  disappointments  and  fail- 
ures, perhaps  early;  perhaps  to  other  eyes  com- 
pensated by  successes  that  seem  more  than  their 
equivalent ;  perhaps  such  as  it  would  be  unmanly 
to  reveal,  —  which  yet  make  life  other  than  we  had 
planned  or  hoped,  and  which  never  cease  to  be 
regretted.  I  am  inclined  to  think  that,  could  we 
look  into  one  another's  inmost  experiences,  we 
should  be  amazed  at  the  number  of  those  who  have 
failed  of  what  they  had  most  craved,  and  in  so- 
ciety, employment,  reputation,  occupy  a  position 
not  of  their  own  first  choice,  —  a  place,  it  may 
be,  not  lower,  yet  to  their  thinking  less  desirable 
than  that  toward  which  their  earliest  aspirations 
and  aims  were  directed.  In  fine,  submission,  in 
some  sort,  to  the  inevitable,  to  what  we  would 
have  shunned  if  we  could,  is  the  necessity  of  us 
all. 

The  first  step  to  brave  endurance  of  what  can- 
not be  evaded  or  surmounted  is  fatalism,  in  the 
true  sense  of  the  Avord  ;  that  is,  the  acknowledg- 
ment of  fate  in  lieu  of  chance  or  blind  destiny. 
Fate  literally  means  that  which  is  spoken,  a  de- 
cree, a  mandate  of  sovereign  authority  from  which 
there  is  no  appeal.  Let  this  be  distinctly  recog- 
nized,—  let  it  be  felt  that  the  events  which  we 


DIVINE  PBOVIDENCE.  61 

would  have  had  otherwise  came  from  a  supreme 
will  not  to  be  arraigned,  still  less  to  be  set  aside, 
and  that  all  future  external  events  will  come  to  us 
from  that  same  supreme  will,  —  there  is  strength, 
there  is  courage  in  this  faith.  It  enables  us  to  do 
and  dare  to  the  utmost.  Thus  fatalism  has  made 
brave  soldiers,  heroic  sufferers.  It  has  inspired 
with  desperate  valor  the  forlorn  hope  of  the  Moslem 
armies.  In  the  worst  days  of  the  Roman  empire  it 
strung  the  hardy  sinews  of  those  noble  Stoics  who 
withstood  surrounding  corruption,  and  paid  with 
their  lives  the  price  of  their  sublime  virtue.  All 
else  was  subject  to  irresistible  fate  ;  their  souls 
alone  were  in  their  own  power,  and  these  they 
were  determined  at  all  hazards  to  keep  loyal  to 
truth  and  right.  There  is  no  chapter  of  the 
world's  moral  history  that  awakens  more  intense 
and  admiring  interest  than  this.  Yet  on  one  side 
it  is  unspeakably  sad ;  for  they  resigned  themselves 
to  a  fate  which  they  often  despised.  The  decree 
of  the  Eternal  was  not  to  them  of  necessity  the 
will  of  infinite  wisdom,  but  fully  as  often  that  of 
arbitrary  caprice.  How  scanty  was  their  reverence 
for  the  arbiters  of  their  destiny  may  appear  from 
the  well-known  saying  of  one  of  their  own  poets, 
"  The  victorious  cause  pleased  the  gods  ;  the  van- 
quished, Cato." 

Philosophical  fatalism   gives,  as   I    have     said, 


62  SUBMISSION  TO  THE 

strength,  but  not  peace  or  hope.  It  sets  the 
man  on  his  feet,  erect  and  firm ;  but  it  does  not 
place  the  everlasting  arms  beneath  him.  It  is 
instructive  and  edifying  to  read  alternately  the 
Stoics  and  St.  Paul,  and  to  contrast  their  magnani- 
mous, but  grim  and  stern,  resignation  with  the 
jubilant  tones  in  which,  a  hundred  times  over,  and 
in  an  endless  diversity  of  gladsome  rhythm,  he  re- 
peats the  sentiment  contained  in  those  words,  "As 
sorrowful,  yet  always  rejoicing." 

What,  now,  is  Christian  resignation?  We  sub- 
mit, like  the  Stoics,  to  the  inevitable.  We  ac- 
knowledofe  the  irreversible  decrees  of  a  hii^her 
power,  under  which  events  have  occurred,  and 
will  yet  occur,  far  otherwise  than  we  would  have 
planned  them.  But  for  us,  instead  of  arbitrary 
fate,  is  the  cup  —  symbol  of  refreshment  —  Avhich 
the  Father  —  our  Father,  who  can  will  only  our 
good  —  has  not  wrath  fully  forced  upon  us,  but  min- 
gled specially  for  our  benefit,  and  so  given  to  us. 
Our  fate,  then,  is  providence,  —  care,  kind  provi- 
sion, fatherly,  and  therefore  salutary,  discipline. 
IMoreover,  with  the  veil  of  death  uplifted,  we  are 
permitted  to  extend  our  view  to  the  resurrection- 
life  ;  we  cannot  doubt  that  God's  loving  provi- 
dence reaches  out  into  the  eternity  fathomed  by 
his  thought  alone  ;  and  if  there  be  events  which 
can  have  only  a  sad  aspect  in  this  world,  it  may  be 


DIVINE  PROVIDENCE.  63 

that  they  are  among  the  essential  factors  of  char- 
acter, and  thus  of  our  enduring  happiness,  so  that 
our  wound-marks  may  be  glory-marks  in  heaven. 

In  this  interpretation  of  earthly  events  we  are 
guided  even  more  by  the  life  than  by  the  words  of 
Jesus.  In  him  we  have  a  perpetual  illustration  of 
the  truth  that  "  whom  the  Lord  loveth  he  chast- 
eneth."  What  life  was  ever  so  full  as  his  of  lowly 
and  sad  experiences,  from  his  birth  in  the  manger 
to  the  long,  weary,  bitter  agony  and  ignominy  of 
the  cross  ?  Yet  from  this  pilgrimage  of  thankless 
toil  and  hopeless  suifering,  from  this  scorn,  con- 
tumely, and  outrage,  has  sprung  the  name  above 
every  name ;  on  this  foundation  rests  the  throne 
before  which  every  knee  shall  bow,  —  the  growing 
kingship  over  myriads  in  earth  and  heaven,  —  the 
dominion  to  which  there  shall  be  neither  limit  nor 
end.  This  —  his  glory  —  he  promises,  in  their 
respective  measures,  to  all  who  follow  him  in  trial 
and  in  suffering. 

Let  us  now  take  the  attitude  in  which  we  can 
look  hopefully  on  such  earthly  events  as  might  else 
give  us  discouragement  or  dismay. 

The  fatherhood  of  God  puts  us  on  the  footing 
of  children,  not  only  as  to  his  love  and  protection, 
but  equally  as  to  our  own  knowledge  and  judg- 
ment. Must  not  we  be  mere  children  in  our  dis- 
cernment  of   the   purposes   and   consequences   of 


64  SUBMISSION  TO   THE 

events  ?  Are  we  not  more  ignorant  of  the  details 
of  our  life  beyond  death  than  our  infant  children 
are  of  the  conditions  of  manhood  and  woman- 
hood ?  If  the  heavenly  life  is  to  he  development, 
must  not  our  highest  development  here  be  less 
than  infantile  compared  with  what  we  are  to  be  ? 
You  have  encountered,  my  friend,  experiences 
which,  you  say  to  yourself,  cannot  by  any  possi- 
bility be  beneficial.  Did  you  not  have  the  same 
opinion,  when  you  were  a  child,  about  rules,  pro- 
hibitions, commands,  requirements,  refusals,  of 
your  very  wise  and  kind  parents?  Were  there 
not  times  when  you  were  absolutely  certain  that 
they  were  in  the  wrong,  and  that  you  knew  better 
than  they  ?  Yet  these,  perhaps,  are  the  very  par- 
ticulars in  which  you  now  most  clearly  and  thank- 
fully recognize  their  wisdom,  and  have  copied  it, 
if  you  have  children  of  your  own,  in  your  plans  for 
their  good. 

Meanwhile,  whatever  other  purpose  such  expe- 
riences may  serve,  they  are  of  unspeakable  worth 
in  the  discipline  of  your  faith  and  trust.  Could 
you  understand  all,  what  room  were  there,  or  what 
necessity  for  faith  ?  But  faith  is  a  tonic  to  the 
whole  spiritual  nature,  —  an  unfailing  source  of 
health  and  vigor,  and  equally  of  love,  praise,  and 
worship.  Nor  can  it  be  that  we  shall  ever  out- 
grow our  need  of  faith :  for  there  will  ever  be  in 


DIVINE   PROVIDENCE.  65 

the  divine  administration  mysteries,  if  no  longer 
painful,  yet  impenetrable,  —  sealed  books,  of  which 
no  man  in  heaven  any  more  than  on  earth  can 
loose  the  seal ;  and  the  very  faith  which  has  here 
its  frequent  baptism  of  sorrow,  may  in  realms  of 
unclouded  joy  still  precede  our  knowledge,  sustain 
our  reverence,  and  deepen  our  adoration. 

But  things  look  so  confused  and  tangled  here, 
often  so  planless,  often  so  needless,  often  so  pre- 
cisely wdiat  in  our  best  judgment  they  ought  not 
to  be,  often  without  any  relieving  or  hopeful 
aspect  which  by  the  utmost  ingenuity  we  can  dis- 
cern or  imagine.  Were  they  meant  to  look  other- 
wise here?  May  we  not  be  looking  at  them  on 
the  wTong  side  ?  and  may  they  not  on  the  right 
side  present  only  symmetry  and  beauty  ?  Suppose 
you  had  one  of  those  magnificent  tapestries  from 
the  cartoons  of  Raphael  —  miracles  of  genius  and 
art  as  they  are  —  laid  before  you  on  the  reverse 
side,  what  would  you  see  ?  Not  even  the  faintest 
outlines  of  figures,  —  a  confused  medley  of  threads 
and  colors;  hues  so  mixed  as  in  some  spots  to 
look  mean  and  muddy ;  threads  that  could  not 
have  been  woven  in  a  more  disorderly  jumble 
had  there  been  a  loom  in  chaos,  and  had  Erebus 
thrown  tlie  shuttle.  But  turn  the  canvas,  and  you 
will  see  that  there  was  not  a  thread  that  could 
have  been  omitted  or  differently  placed ;  not  a  tint 


66  SUBMISSION   TO   THE 

which  would  not  have  been  heightened  or  attenu- 
ated for  the  worse  ;  not  a  trait  wanting  or  super- 
fluous in  the  picture,  in  which  you  recognize  less 
the  grandeur  of  human  art  than  archetypes  of 
beauty  that  have  their  eternal  seat  in  the  beauty- 
breathing  sj^irit  of  the  Supreme  Creator.  The 
web  of  human  fortunes  is  woven  for  eternity. 
Here  we  see  only  the  reverse  side  ;  and  no  wonder 
is  it  if  we  cannot  trace  its  symmetry,  its  beauty  of 
outline,  its  harmony  of  colors.  Yet  there  may  be 
not  a  thread,  not  a  tint  in  which  we  shall  not  dis- 
cern the  hand  of  the  Divine  Weaver,  when  we 
shall  be  on  the  right  side  of  the  canvas. 

Indeed,  we  sometimes  get  a  right-side  view  in 
this  life,  if  there  be  indeed  in  our  souls  a  hopeful 
beginning  of  the  heavenly  life ;  and  especially  is 
this  the 'Case,  as  in  the  lapse  of  years  we  approach 
the  period  of  clear  vision.  Not  a  few  of  our  heav- 
iest trials  and  severest  sorrows  have  become  our 
blessings,  and  we  have  rejoiced  in  the  very  events 
that  had  most  grieved  us.  What  seemed  evils 
have  opened  unexpected  avenues  to  higher  good. 
Loss  has  been  the  visible  means  of  a  more  than 
preponderant  gain.  Disappointment  has  given  our 
energies  a  worthier  direction  or  a  more  fruitful 
field.  From  inevitable  changes  which  had  at  the 
time  no  hopeful  aspect,  have  come  opportunities 
which   we    would   on    no   account    have   missed, 


DIVINE  PROVIDENCE.  67 

yet  whicli  could  have  been  made  availing  for  us  in 
no  other  way.  In  our  bereavements,  and  in  losses 
that  admitted  of  no  earthly  compensation,  some  of 
us,  I  trust,  have  been  conscious  of  an  inward 
growth,  a  peaceful  and  reconciled  spirit,  a  fellow- 
ship with  the  family  of  the  redeemed,  a  nearness 
to  heaven,  and  a  fulness  of  immortal  hope,  in  which 
we  have  been  constrained  to  own  that  the  bread  of 
affliction  has  been  to  us  the  bread  of  life,  the  cup  of 
sorrow  the  cup  of  salvation.  Do  there  yet  remain 
griefs  in  which  we  can  trace  neither  earthly  compen- 
sation nor  spiritual  blessing  ?  With  these  it  can  be 
only  a  question  of  time.  It  is  all  one  continuous  life, 
the  earthly  and  the  heavenly.  The  compensation 
which  we  cannot  realize  here  may  be  none  the 
less  real  there.  Even  the  submissive  waiting, 
where  we  cannot  see  and  know  the  good  that  shall 
spring  from  seeming  evil,  may  in  itself  be  an 
unspeakable  blessing,  in  attaching  our  spirits  by 
stronger  bonds  of  loving  trust  to  Him  who  is  the 
soul's  chief  good,  in  unearthing  our  hopes  and 
affections,  and  thus  preparing  them  to  be  trans- 
planted to  the 

* '  Everlasting  gardens 
Where  angels  walk,  and  seraphs  are  the  wardens  ; 
Where  every  flower  escaped  through  death's  dark  portal 
Becomes  immortal." 

I  have  spoken  of  resignation  as  a  passive  spirit- 


68  SUBMISSION  TO   THE 

nal  grace.  It  is  not  wholly  so.  It  ought  to  be  an 
inspirer  of  activity  and  energy  in  our  life-work. 
By  the  very  events  by  which  God  hedges  in,  he 
marks  out  our  way.  By  limiting,  he  directs  our 
aims.  By  removing  some  objects  of  pursuit,  he 
places  others  in  clearer  view.  By  giving  us  expe- 
rience of  the  frailty  of  our  hold  on  aught  that  can 
change  and  perish,  he  invites  our  undivided  and 
strenuous  endeavor  for  those  attainments  which 
bear  the  seal  and  warrant  of  his  own  eternity.  The 
voice  that  comes  to  us  from  him  in  vicissitude  and 
loss  is,  '^  Arise  ye  and  depart;  for  this  is  not  your 
rest."  Much  of  what  we  have  desired  in  this  world 
has  eluded  our  quest,  and  is  gone  beyond  our  reach. 
Shall  we  not,  then,  concentrate  our  efforts  on  those 
inward  gifts  and  graces  which,  once  ours,  can  cease 
to  be  ours  only  by  our  own  supineness  or  sin  ? 
Many  of  those  whose  lives  were  blended  with  our 
OAvn  have  passed  on  before  us.  Why,  then,  should  we 
seek  the  living  among  the  dead,  and  not  rather  fol- 
low them  to  the  realm  of  undying  life,  with  our  ear- 
nest aspiration  and  with  all  our  spiritual  industry, 
that  we  may  on  our  side  of  the  death-river  hold  not 
unequal  pace  with  them,  and  may  not  find  ourselves 
so  very  far  behind  them  when  we  meet  again  ? 

Let  me,  in  conclusion,  advert  to  one  point  on 
which  a  verv  few  words  will  suffice.  Our  resig^na- 
tion,  in  order  to  be  availing  whether  for  peace  or 


DIVINE  PROVIDENCE.  69 

for  strength,  must  be  entire.  There  must  be  no 
uneasy  self-reproach  for  what  has  taken  place,  no 
backward  looking  as  if  ^YQ  could  have  shunned  or 
averted  the  loss,  disappointment,  or  sorrow  under 
which  we  are  suffering.  True,  there  is  hardly  any 
event  in  the  divine  providence,  in  which  there  is 
not  a  commingling  of  human  agency  ;  and  there  is 
often  the  agonizing  thought,  "  Had  I  only  done 
otherwise,  all  this  might  not  have  been."  The  only 
question  is,  Had  you  right  purposes  ?  Did  you  do 
the  best  you  knew  ?  If  not,  penitence  should  come 
before  resignation,  and  you  should  bear  bravely 
what  you  suffer  as  the  adequate,  kind,  and  healing 
retribution  of  your  wrong-doing.  But  if  your  con- 
science is  clear,  —  if  what  you  regret  came  by  no 
fault  of  your  own,  then  it  is  the  Lord's  doing,  and 
it  is  yours  to  submit  in  trust  and  hope.  True,  had 
you  known  what  you  know  now,  you  would  have 
done  very  differently.  But  you  did  not  know ;  you 
could  not  know.  Yours  is  not  the  gift  of  prophecy. 
Had  you  this  gift,  it  would,  indeed,  seem  a  pre- 
cious prophylactic ;  but  it  might  shield  3'ou  from  the 
very  dews  and  rains  which  God  means  for  his  rich- 
est harvest-work  in  you.  Take,  then,  as  from 
him  the  discipline  which  he  alone  appoints.  Im- 
agine not  that  you  have  helped  fill  the  cup ;  but 
receive  it  as  mingled  in  wise  and  provident  love, 
and  given  you  expressly  by  the  Father. 


70     JESUS   THE  LIGHT  OF  THE   WORLD. 


VI. 

JESUS   THE    LIGHT    OF    THE    WORLD. 

(CHRISTMAS.) 

**  I  am  the  lipid  of  the  world."  —  John  viii.  12. 

'T^HE  day  of  the  year  on  which  our  Saviour  was 
born  is  entirely  unknown.  When  it  was 
first  attempted  to  fix  the  date,  different  traditions 
of  equal  claims  to  authenticity  assigned  several 
different  days,  in  January,  April,  and  May.  We 
have  no  trace  of  the  celebration  of  the  twenty-fifth 
of  December  till  the  fourth  century,  when  a  Pagan 
festival  was  Christianized  for  this  purpose,  with  an 
appropriateness  which  only  surrounds  the  observ- 
ance with  richer  and  more  sacred  associations  than 
could  attach  themselves  even  to  a  birthday.  This 
was  the  day  of  the  Roman  feast  of  the  "  Birth  of 
the  Sun."  For  several  successive  months,  reaching 
each  day  a  lower  meridian  altitude,  and  describing 
a  briefer  circuit  than  the  preceding  day,  the  sun 
had  been  withdrawing  its  vivifying,  fertilizing  rays, 
till  the  Avhole  earth  seemed  sinking  into  the  em- 
brace of  frost  and  night.     But,  the  solstice  passed, 


JESUS   TEE  LIOHT  OF  THE   WORLD.        71 

the  sun  climbs  ever  higher,  and  moves  in  an  ever 
longer  path,  extending  its  sway,  increasing  its  tri- 
umphs, till  the  morning  meets  the  evening  twilight, 
and  the  lord  of  day,  conqueror  and  sovereign,  looks 
down  on  a  subject  world.  Thus  had  man  reached 
his  winter-solstice  of  ignorance  and  of  guilt, — 
darkness  covered  the  earth,  and  gross  darkness  the 
nations,  when  there  arose  upon  the  desolation  and 
death-shadow  of  a  godless  world  the  sun  which 
shall  mount  ever  higher,  and  describe  an  ever- 
lengthening  course  in  the  heavens,  till  there  shall 
be  no  winter  and  no  night,  and  the  words  of  the 
Hebrew  seer,  "  The  Lord  shall  be  to  thee  an  ever- 
lasting light,  and  thy  God  thy  glory,"  shall  be  ful- 
filled for  all  mankind.  This  symbolic  reference  of 
the  feast  of  the  Nativity  is  recognized  in  the  oldest 
Christmas  hymn  extant,  by  Prudentius,  of  the 
fourth  century,  —  a  hymn  which,  literally  trans- 
lated, begins  in  this  wise :  *'  Why  does  the  re- 
turning sun  now  desert  his  narrow  orbit  ?  Is  not 
Christ  born  upon  the  earth,  who  extends  the  tract 
of  light  ?  How  fleeting  the  joy  which  the  hurry- 
ing day  yielded  !  How,  as  it  shortened  apace,  was 
its  torch  hardly  lighted  before  it  was  quenched ! 
Let  the  sky  glow  with  gladness,  let  the  exulting 
earth  rejoice,  now  that  the  daybeams  again,  ste^)  by 
step,  scale  their  former  height." 

This  sj^mbolism  places  the  birth  of  Christ  where 


72    JESUS   TEE  LIGHT  OF  TEE   WORLD. 

it  belongs  in  the  order  and  course  of  nature,  at  the 
turning-point  of  human  history.  It  recognizes  liim 
as  in  a  sole  and  unapproached  sense  the  light  of 
the  world.  I  most  of  all  rejoice  in  the  festival  as 
recalling  us  especially  to  this  one  essential  aspect 
of  our  Saviour's  mission  and  character.  There  was 
no  need  of  a  feast  of  the  sun  ;  for  so  long  as  its 
disc  was  daily  seen  in  the  firmament,  none  could 
mistake  the  source  of  light.  But  suppose  that  the 
sun  had  not  appeared  for  many  centuries,  and  its 
light-beams  had  been  treasured  for  us  as  its  calo- 
rific rays  have  been,  and  were  dispensed  for  our 
use  through  inferior  luminaries,  it  wotdd  be  hard 
to  keep  up  the  popular  faith  in  the  sun.  In  like 
manner,  we  are  in  danger  of  losing  our  reverence 
for  Christ,  not  indeed  because  he  is  blotted  out 
from  the  upper  heavens  open  to  our  loving  faith, 
but  because  the  treasured  daybeams  of  the  Sun  of 
Righteousness  reach  us  through  so  many  and  diverse 
receptacles  which  they  have  filled,  while  his  earthly 
life  lies  in  the  dim  distance  of  far-off  antiquity. 

Says  one,  "  Christianity  is  true,  indeed,  but  its 
truths  are  self-evident.  They  reveal  themselves 
to  consciousness  ;  they  are  verified  by  experience  ; 
they  are  written  in  the  heart  of  man.  I  believe 
them,  not  because  they  were  uttered  eighteen  hun- 
dred years  ago,  but  because  they  liave  the  irrepres- 
sible and  spontaneous  testimony  of  my  own  nature." 


JESUS   THE  LIGHT  OF  THE  WORLD.        73 

T  reply :  You  are  conscious  of  the  circulation  of  the 
blood,  —  you  feel  it  as  yow  lay  your  hand  upon 
your  lioart,  your  fingers  upon  your  wrist.  But 
before  Harvey  announced  that  circulation,  it  was 
no  less  real,  yet  was  not  an  object  of  consciousness 
even  to  the  most  acute  physiologist.  It  is  one 
thing  to  discover,  quite  another  thing  to  recognize 
and  verify,  the  facts  of  consciousness.  If  the  truths 
of  Christianity  are  self-evident,  how  is  it  that  they 
formed  no  part  of  any  man's  consciousness  till  the 
advent  of  Christ?  How  is  it  that  they  are  not 
springing  up  to-day  in  the  consciousness  of  astute 
and  speculative  men  in  China  and  in  India?  How 
is  it  that  the  only  regions  in  which  this  conscious- 
ness is  attained  are  those  in  which  the  Avords  of 
Jesus  are  familiarly  known,  and  that  the  very  men 
who  profess  to  have  this  consciousness  indepen- 
dently of  Christianity  have,  without  a  single  excep- 
tion, been  trained  in  the  familiar  knowledge  of  the 
evangelic  record  ? 

Says  another,  ''  The  human  mind  reaches  not  its 
full  development  in  any  one  individual  or  age. 
The  discoveries  of  one  century  are  axioms  for  the 
next.  The  child  begins  where  the  father  leaves 
off.  Christianity  marks  the  highest  religious  de- 
velopment of  Christ's  own  age,  and  exhibits  the 
ripened  product  of  the  religious  wisdom  of  the 
preceding  ages.  He  was  the  representative  relig- 
4 


74         JESUS   THE  LIGHT  OF  THE  WOBLD. 

ious  genius  of  his  times,  yet  only  their  natural 
growth ;  and  as  he  exceeded  all  that  went  before 
him,  there  will  come  after  him  those  greater  than 
he."  I  ask  in  reply :  Where  was  the  heritage  to 
which  he  succeeded  ?  Was  it  in  his  own  nation  ? 
In  the  pitiful  drivellings  or  the  fine-spun  subtleties 
of  the  Rabbles,  of  both  whose  folly  and  whose 
wisdom  we  have  ample  records  ?  Or  was  it  in  the 
more  cultivated  nations  of  classic  fame  ?  Many  of 
you  are  familiar  with  the  Greek  and  Roman 
authors  before,  at,  and  after  the  Christian  era. 
Do  you  find  in  them  the  remotest  approach  to 
Christianity,  —  the  faintest  vestiges  of  u  religious 
develoj^ment  that  had  its  fitting  consummation  in 
the  gospel  ?  Virgil,  Horace,  and  Ovid  flourished 
in  the  generation  preceding  that  of  Christ's  ad- 
vent. Do  they  indicate  an  advanced  stage  of 
moral  and  religious  attainment?  If  Christ  and 
those  who  wrote  concerning  him  be  left  out  of  the 
question,  is  there  a  fragment  of  the  literature  of 
the  Augustan  or  the  next  succeeding  age  that 
indicates  assured  certainty  or  mature  wisdom  as 
to  the  great  questions  appertaining '  to  man's  nat- 
ure, duty,  and  destiny?  The  truly  thoughtful 
writers  of  those  times  are  evidentlj^  groping  in 
palpable  darkness,  though  yearning  for  light; 
while  the  greater  part  of  the  literature  of  that 
day  betrays  a  moral  culture  beneath  that  of  the 


JESUS   THE  LIGHT  OF  THE  WORLD.         75 

very  lowest  strata  of  society  in  Christendom. 
]\Ioreover,  if  Christ's  teachings  marked  a  stage  in 
the  natural  development  of  religious  thought,  how 
is  it  that  the  greater  than  Christ  is  yet  to  come  ? 
"Why  have  these  centuries  rolled  on  without  pro- 
ducing him  ?  Why  is  it  that,  as  yet,  the  wisest 
and  best  men  have  been  his  followers,  that  none 
have  outgrown  him,  and  that  those  who  have  most 
outgrown  their  fellows  have  still  ascribed  to  him 
all  that  they  have  and  are  ? 

But  it  may  be  asked,  "  Why  is  it  necessary  to 
canvass  or  to  assert  Christ's  personal  claims, 
when  it  is  with  the  truth,  not  with  its  author  or 
revealer,  that  we  are  chiefly  concerned  ?  The 
light  is  equally  benignant  and  guiding,  however 
kindled,  or  through  whatever  medium  derived." 
I  answer,  that  it  does  us  good  to  thank  and  to 
love  Christ.  God  has  bestowed  upon  us  no  other 
gift  so  precious  as  the  capacity  of  loving ;  and 
while  he  first  of  all  claims  our  love,  so  far  is  he 
from  exhausting  it,  that  none  have  so  much  love 
for  others  as  those  who  love  him  most  fervently, 
while  none  love  him  so  fervently  as  those  who  are 
the  most  full  of  gratitude,  kindness,  compassion, 
to  all  above,  around,  beneath  them.  God  is  wont 
to  bestow  botli  gifts  and  givers.  He  might  feed 
us  with  manna  from  lieaven,  and  clothe  us,  as 
he  clothes  beast  and  bird,  from  the  vestry  of  his 


76         JESUS  THE  LIGHT  OF  TEE   WORLD. 

own  careful  providence.  But  he  has  employed  for 
these  ends  the  mmistiy  of  our  parents  during  the 
many  years  for  which  we  could  take  no  adequate 
thought  for  ourselves,  and  this,  no  doubt,  that  by 
filial  affection  our  whole  being  should  be  refined 
and  exalted,  and  that  through  the  parents  whom 
we  have  seen  we  should  be  led  to  the  Father 
whom  we  have  not  seen.  In  like  manner,  he 
feeds  us  with  the  bread  of  heaven  and  clothes  us 
with  the  robe  of  righteousness,  not  —  as  he  might 
—  without  a  mediator,  but  through  Jesus  Christ, 
that  the  love  of  Christ  may  give  an  else  unattain- 
able sweetness  and  grace  to  the  character,  and 
that  through  this  love  we  may  be  drawn  into  ever 
more  intimate  and  genial  heart-communion  with 
the  Father.  Therefore,  while  we  never  forget 
that  Christ  is  the  Incarnate  Love  of  God,  we  deem 
it  our  privilege  and  our  joy  to  trace  back  to  the 
manger  of  Bethlehem  the  daybeams  that  light  up 
for  us  the  wa}^  of  duty,  that  transfigure  trial  and 
grief,  that  rest  on  the  valley  of  the  death-shadow, 
that  suffuse  lowly  penitence  with  immortal  hope, 
that  reveal  to  us  in  the  ever  nearer  future  the 
mansions  of  the  Father's  house  where  the  holy 
dead  of  our  homes  await  us,  —  where  he  in  whom 
the  whole  family  of  the  dead  and  the  living  is 
made  one,  prepares  our  welcome.  What  pure  and 
blessed   hope   is  there  which  we  owe  not  to  his 


JESUS   THE  LIGHT  OF  TEE    WORLD.         77 

ministry  ?  What  source  of  enduring  joy  is  there 
that  flows  not  from  or  through  him  ?  What  cup 
of  ghidness  is  there  mingled  for  us  by  his  and  our 
Father,  into  which  he  has  not  poured  the  sweet 
infusion  of  his  love  ?  What  tribute  of  praise  can 
we  offer  to  the  Most  High,  in  which  the  Son's  name 
is  not  fitly  blended  with  the  Father's? 

While  there  is  hardly  any  expression  of  grati- 
tude, reverence,  or  admiration  that  could  be 
misapplied  if  applied  to  Christ,  we  deem  him 
pre-eminently  the  Light  of  the  world,  because  he 
is  the  very  truth  he  reveals,  and  there  is  much  of 
that  truth  which  becomes  to  us  vivid,  realized, 
available,  only  in  his  person.  I  grant  that  the 
attributes  of  God  may  be  enunciated,  demon- 
strated, believed,  without  express  reference  to 
Christ,  yet  not,  as  it  seems  to  me,  clearly  and  sat- 
isfactorily, without  light  derived  directly  or  indi- 
rectly from  him.  God  in  nature  is  infinite  beyond 
our  thought.  Clouds  and  darkness  are  about  his 
throne.  His  judgments  are  a  great  deep ;  his 
ways,  past  our  finding  out.  God  in  providence 
is  shrouded  in  frequent  mystery.  His  purposes 
reach  out  on  either  hand  to  a  past  and  a  future 
eternity,  and  the  focus  from  which  they  may  be 
beheld  and  recognized  lies,  oftener  than  not,  be- 
hind or  beyond  the  field  of  our  vision.  But  God 
in  Christ  we  can  approach  at  once  with  filial  rev- 


78        JESUS   THE  LIGHT  OF  THE   WORLD. 

erence  and  witli  brotherly  intimacy.  What  of  God 
we  can  see  in  human  form,  and  that  only,  we  can 
comprehend  and  feel,  take  up  into  our  own  con- 
sciousness, recognize  from  our  own  experience, 
realize  with  growing  fulness  as  the  image  we  con- 
template shapes  itself  more  and  more  in  our  own 
characters.  As  we  behold  God  in  Christ,  he  is  no 
longer  merely  the  Creator,  Sovereign,  Judge,  but 
equally  the  Joy-giver,  the  close  and  loving  Friend, 
the  Father,  as  near  to  us  as  if  we  were  the  sole 
objects  of  his  care.  We  ascribe  to  him,  as  we 
come  to  him  through  Christ,  those  attributes  of 
tenderness,  of  spiritual  loveliness  and  beauty, 
which  endear  the  Saviour  to  our  farailiar  confi- 
dence and  affection,  —  wliich,  were  he  on  earth, 
would  win  us  to  his  presence,  and  draw  forth  for 
his  ear  all  our  wants,  fears,  sorrows,  hopes,  aspi- 
rations. 

As  regards  duty,  also,  what  law  can  take  the 
place  to  us  of  the  living  law  in  him,  —  the  beauty 
of  holiness  as  it  glows  in  his  entire  walk  on  earth 
and  intercourse  with  men?  It  must  be  remem- 
bered that  before  his  advent  the  passive  virtues 
had  no  honor,  some  of  them  not  even  a  name, 
others  a  bad  name  ;  that  he  could  express  the  idea 
of  humility  only  by  a  circumlocution ;  that  the 
meek  endurance  of  injury  had  seemed  inglorious 
even  to  the  wisest  and  best;  that  in  this  whole. 


JESUS   TEE  LIGHT  OF  TEE   WORLD.         79 

region  of  character  there  were  valleys  to  be  ex- 
alted, and  mountains  of  pride,  self-sufficiency,  and 
arrogance  to  be  brought  low ;  that  the  entire 
moral  scale  was  to  be  reversed,  the  first  to  be 
made  last  and  the  last  first.  All  this  Jesus  has 
effected,  not  merely  or  chiefly  by  precept,  but  by  a 
glorious  greatness  of  spirit  and  character,  which 
none  could  steadfastly  behold  —  nay,  not  even  as 
on  the  cross  he  met  a  doom  of  servile  ignominy  — 
and  not  own  it  as  divine.  The  old  and  vicious 
moral  standard  still  has  its  strong  grasp  on  our 
lower  natures,  and  would  re-establish  itself  even 
in  Christendom,  did  we  not  look  to  Jesus,  and  be- 
hold ever  anew  in  him  the  peerless  beauty  of 
humilit}^  the  majesty  of  meekness,  the  transcend- 
ent greatness  of  forbearance  and  forgiveness. 

As  regards  immortality,  too,  in  our  quiet  and 
prosperous  seasons,  we  delight  to  speculate  on  the 
future ;  we  throw  out  our  unbuttressecl  bridge 
over  the  abyss,  and  see  not  how  perilously  it 
hangs  in  mid-air,  how  slight  a  breath  may  sweep  it 
away.  But  in  our  times  of  peril  and  agony,  by 
the  death-bed,  by  the  grave-side ;  when  our  own 
lives  are  in  jeopardy ;  when  we  begin  to  number  our 
few  remaining  5'ears,  and  feel  that  we  are  far  down 
the  westward  declivit}^  of  our  brief  passage  from 
death  to  death,  —  we  find  support,  consolation, 
peace,   assured   hope,    only   when  we  behold   the 


80    JESUS   THE  LIGHT  OF  THE   WORLD. 

eternal  life  made  manifest,  —  when  we  hear  those 
words  which  shall  echo  from  grave  to  grave  till 
the  last  of  the  dying  shall  have  put  on  immor- 
tality, "I  am  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life,"  — 
when  we  see  the  Crucified  coming  forth  new-born 
from  the  sepulchre,  captivity  led  captive,  death 
swallowed  up  in  victory. 

But  time  fails  me  for  a  theme  so  vast ;  for  what 
tongue  or  thought  can  exhaust  the  fulness  of  mean- 
ing'in  those  words,  "  I  am  the  hght  of  the  world"? 
Let  us  rather  recur,  as  this  festival  invites  us,  in 
thankful  memory,  to  the  rising  of  the  everlasting 
liglit.  We  go  in  thought  to  the  hill-country  about 
Bethlehem.  There  sit  the  simple  shepherds,  per- 
haps beguiling  the  night-watches  by  anticipations 
of  the  speedy  coming  of  him  the  signs  of  whose 
near  approach  had  for  years  loomed  above  the 
horizon  of  every  devout  Hebrew.  Little  think 
they  that  they  sliall  be  the  first  to  welcome  liim. 
"  He  will  come,"  they  say,  "  in  pomp  and  power, 
will  restore  the  throne  of  David,  and  wield  the 
sceptre  of  Judah.  Our  Rabbles  will  hail  his  ad- 
vent ;  our  priests  will  throw  wide  the  temple-gates, 
and  swing  their  censers  high  as  he  crosses  the 
threshold.  With  song  and  shout,  with  trumpet  and 
sound  of  cornet,  will  the  sacred  court  ring  as  he, 
by  right  of  a  God-given  priesthood,  approaches  the 
altar.     We,  when  he  summons  us,  will  rejoice  to 


JESVS   THE  LIGHT  OF  THE  WOULD.        81 

be  liis  servants  ;  and  when  lie  leads  the  host  of 
Israel  to  put  to  flight  the  army  of  our  alien  usurp- 
ers, we  will  drop  the  crook,  gird  on  the  sword,  and 
follow  him  to  victory,  that  we  may  win  some  hum- 
ble trophy  of  his  triumph,  and  feed  on  the  crumbs 
of  his  coronation-feast."  While  they  thus  com- 
mune, the  heavens  are  kindled  with  a  glory  and 
effulgence  unknown  before.  The  brow  of  night  is 
suffused  with  the  dawn  of  God's  long-promised 
day  of  redemption.  The  harps  of  heaven  charm 
the  awed  shepherds  into  silence.  Angel  voices 
chant,  not  of  earthly  grandeur,  embattled  hosts, 
fields  of  slaughter,  and  garments  rolled  in  blood,  but 
"  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  and  on  earth  peace, 
good-will  among  men."  Then  comes  the  com- 
mand that  they  go  to  Bethlehem,  and  there,  by 
the  side  of  the  manger,  do  homage  to  their  Prince 
and  Saviour. 

What  a  blending  of  the  Son  of  God  and  the  Son 
of  Man  is  here !  On  the  one  hand,  worshipping 
angels,  when  God  "  bringeth  the  first-begotten  into 
the  world,"  celestial  music  borne  on  the  night-air 
over  the  hills  of  Judea;  on  the  other,  a  peasant 
mother,  a  cattle-stall  for  a  cradle,  lowly  shepherds 
the  sole  witnesses  of  the  advent  of  him  who  is  to 
be  "  a  man  of  sorrows  and  acquainted  with  grief." 
To  the  Son  of  God  all  heaven  bears  testimony  ;  the 
very  biilh-scene  of  the  Son  of  Man  typifies  the  cold 

4  F 


82        JESUS   THE  LIGHT  OF  THE  WORLD. 

reception,  the  weary,  suffering  pilgrimage,  the  scorn 
and  contumely  that  await  him.  Yet  from  that  hour 
was  the  heart  of  winter  broken.  Then  commenced 
the  growth  of  humanity's  long  year,  from  the  dreary 
solstice  never  to  return,  to  that  other  solstice  fore- 
told in  holy  prophecy,  when  in  the  midsummer  of 
universal  righteousness  there  shall  be  perpetual 
bloom  and  un withering  verdure,  —  the  earth  an 
Eden  whose  sun  shall  no  more  go  down ;  for  the 
glory  of  God  shall  lighten  it,  and  the  Lamb  is  the 
light  thereof. 


TEE  PEACE  OF  CHRIST,  83 


YII. 

THE  PEACE   OF  CHRIST. 
*^  My  peace  I  give  unto  you." — John  xiv.  27. 

TN  the  towns  and  cities  of  southern  Italy,  where 
the  days  are  generally  sunny  and  the  nights 
serene,  the  poorer  people  live  almost  wholly  in  the 
open  air  ;  cook  and  eat  in  front  of  their  houses, 
hold  social  gatherings  there,  rest,  and  often  sleep 
there ;  and  there  are  no  people  in  the  w^orld  that 
seem  to  enjoy  life  more.  Their  houses  are  dark, 
damp,  with  stone  or  earthen  floors,  squalid,  dirty. 
No  wonder  that  the  outside  of  such  houses  should 
be  preferred  to  the  inside.  But  once  in  a  while 
comes  a  sirocco^  which  drives  them  all  within  doors ; 
and  that  must  be  horrible,  with  the  slimy  walls, 
the  stifling  air,  the  fetid  stench,  and  just  light 
enough  to  make  darkness  visible.  How  after  a 
few  hours'  incarceration  must  they  loathe  their 
homes  (if  it  be  not  sacrilege  so  to  term  them),  and 
with  what  alacrity  must  they  resume  their  street- 
life  when  the  storm  has  passed  ! 

Spiritually,  many  of  us  are  like  those  poor  Ital- 


84  THE  PEACE   OF  CHRIST. 

ians.  We  live  out  of  doors.  Our  self-conscious- 
ness relates  maiiil}^  to  the  condition  of  the  body, 
the  gratification  of  the  senses,  tastes,  and  procliv- 
ities, our  social  position,  our  success  in  our  respec- 
tive pursuits.  Indeed,  in  suniiy  weather,  and  when 
the  stars  are  bright  and  the  air  clear,  we  ail,  what- 
ever our  characters,  enjoy  this  outside  life,  and 
God  has  made  it  beautiftd,  because  he  means  that 
we  shall  enjoy  it.  But  storms  drive  us  in  ;  and 
storms  beat  sooner  or  later  on  every  one  of  us,  — 
on  the  5'Oung  as  well  as  on  the  old.  Sickness,  be- 
reavement, disappointment,  cloud  the  sun,  hide  the 
stars,  poison  the  air,  so  that  external  objects  cease 
to  yield  us  satisfaction,  nay,  cease  to  occupy  our 
thoughts,  and  we  are  turned  in  upon  ourselves,  our 
moral,  spiritual  being,  those  memories,  feelings, 
affections,  which  are  tlie  soul's  house.  Is  that 
house  foul  and  noisome,  dark  and  desolate?  We 
must  take  all  the  discomfort  it  can  give  us.  Is  it 
clean,  pure,  and  bright?  We  can  enjoy  it,  and 
thank  God  for  it,  when  there  is  nothing  else  for  us 
to  enjoy. 

Take,  for  examples,  tAvo  pictures  of  interiors  that 
have  come  down  to  us  from  those  matchless  j)aint- 
ers,  the  authors  of  the  Hebrew  Scriptures.  Jo- 
seph's brethren  had  sold  him  for  a  slave,  and  made 
his  father  believe  that  he  had  been  devoured  by 
wild  beasts.      Long   afterward  they  found  them- 


THE  PEACE   OF  CHRIST.  85 

selves  in  an  Egyptian  dungeon,  from  wliich  they 
expected  never  to  be  led  forth,  except  to  die  ;  and 
then  their  memory  glided  over  the  intervening 
years,  during  which  they  had  undoubtedly  led  an 
easy,  self-compkxcent,  out-of-door  life,  and  they 
said  one  to  another,  "  We  are  verily  guilty  con- 
cerning our  brother,  in  that  Vv^e  saw  the  anguish  of 
his  soul,  when  he  besought  us  and  we  would  not 
hear ;"  therefore  is  this  distress  come  upon  us." 
Compare  with  this  the  memories  wliich  rise  before 
Job,  when  jioor,  childless,  stricken  with  loathsome 
disease,  every  element  of  his  out-of-door  life  swept 
utterly  away,  he  says,  "  When  the  ear  heard 
me,  then  it  blessed  me ;  when  the  eye  saw  me,  it 
bare  witness  to  me,  because  I  delivered  the  poor 
that  cried,  the  fatherless,  and  him  that  had  none 
to  help  him.  The  blessing  of  him  that  was  ready 
to  perish  came  upon  me,  and  I  caused  the  widow's 
heart  to  sing  for  joy.  I  was  eyes  to  the  blind, 
and  feet  w^as  I  to  the  lame ;  I  was  a  father  to  the 
poor.'*  No  wonder  that  we  have  along  with  such 
remembrances  that  glorious  outburst  of  ecstatic 
hope,  "  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth,  and  will 
stand  up  at  length  upon  the  earth ;  and  though 
with  my  skin  this  body  be  now  wasted  away,  yet 
in  my  flesh  shall  I  see  God." 

I  think  that  there  can  be  hardly  any  of  you, 
even  of  the  youngest  among  you,  wdio  have  not 


86  THE  PEACE   OF  CHRIST. 

had  some  experience  corresponding  to  one  or 
the  other  of  these  types.  You  have  had,  if  not 
enduring,  transient  disappointments  or  griefs, 
brief  iUnesses,  —  times  when  your  enjoyment  of 
outward  things  was  interrupted ;  and  whether  at 
such  times  you  have  been  tranquil  and  happy,  or 
weary,  wretched,  and  despondent,  has  depended  on 
your  inward  character,  on  your  remembrances  of 
duty  and  piety,  or  of  wrong,  sin,  and  shame  ;  and, 
if  the  latter,  no  outward  cause  has  ever  given  you 
a  tithe  of  the  discomfort  that  has  come  from  your 
inner  self-consciousness. . .  We  who  have  reached 
or  passed  the  meridian  of  oar  days  have,  many  of 
us,  had  long  seasons  of  enforced  in-door  life,  — 
chronic  sorrows,  in  which  we  have  seemed  to  real- 
ize the  fable  of  the  vulture  preying  on  the  liver 
that  grew  as  fast  as  it  was  consumed ;  and  we 
have  then  known  the  peace  which  the  world  could 
not  give,  —  an  under-current  of  joy  beneath  the 
troubled  waters,  bubbling  up  ever  and  anon  bright 
and  sparkling  to  the  surface,  or  prolonged  dis- 
tress, —  agony  that  refused  relief  and  rejected  con- 
solation. 

But  these  seasons  only  prefigure  the  experience 
which  death  must  bring.  Then  the  out-of-door 
life  must  cease.  The  soul  must  be  its  own  heaven, 
or  its  own  hell.  I  know  that  heaven  is  represented 
in   holy   writ   by  gorgeous    external    imagery, — 


THE  PEACE   OF  CHRIST.  87 

golden  streets,  gates  of  pearl,  jasper  walls,  peren- 
nial fountains,  the  unsetting  sun.  But  we  are 
told  tliat  the  joys  of  heaven  are  such  as  eye  has 
not  seen  nor  ear  heard,  —  such  only  as  God  reveals 
to  us  by  his  Spirit.  The  golden  streets,  then,  are 
the  soul-paths  trodden  in  holy  communion  with 
the  Saviour ;  the  gates  of  pearl  are  those  through 
which  he  enters  the  believing  spirit ;  the  jasper 
walls  are  the  defence  and  bulwark  of  an  approv- 
ing conscience  ;  the  perennial  fountains  are  purity 
and  truth ;  the  unsetting  sun  is  the  radiance, 
never  dimmed,  that  flows  from  the  glory  of  God  in 
the  face  of  Jesus  Christ.  Our  happiness  or  our 
misery  after  death,  it  is  obvious,  must  be  contin- 
gent, not  on  any  of  those  exterior  conditions  and 
objects  which  form  so  large  a  part  of  our  lives 
here,  but  solely  on  what  we  are.  EternaLs^lf- 
comrQimion  is  our  destiny.  Shall  it  be  communion 
with  selves  that  we  must  abhor  or  despise,  or  with 
selves  into  which  we  can  look  with  gratitude  and 
gladness  ?  This  is  the  question  which  God  would 
have  us  answer  now,  —  the  question  which  it  is 
the  sole  purpose  of  these  religious  rites  to  aid  you 
in  answering  as  you  would  have  it  answered  when 
you  wake  immortal  from  the  death-slumber,  —  the 
question  which  I  would  put  with  a  peculiar  stress 
of  solemnity  to  those  of  my  audience  who  are  now 
forming   characters  which  it  will   be  increasingly 


88  TEE  PEACE   OF  CEIilST. 

hard  to  re-form.  It  may  be  that  the  answer  3-011 
give  this  day  will  never  be  retracted  (God  grant 
it  be  one  Avhich  you  can  never  wish  or  need  to  re- 
tract !)  till  you  shall  realize  its  full  significance  in 
the  life  beyond  death. 

In  our  Saviour's  biography  we  have  the  most  ^W- 
vivid  illustration  of  the  contrast  between  the  ex- 
ternal and  the  interior  life.  How  absurd  might 
have  seemed  to  a  casual  bystander  the  words  of 
our  text,  "  My  peace  I  give  unto  you !  "  Thy 
peace  ?  poor,  homeless  wanderer,  unpitied  sufferer !  . 
Thou  hast  never  know^n  repose,  and  thy  first  bed 
of  rest  will  be  thy  grave.  Penury,  scorn,  con- 
tumely, thankless  toil,  desert  sojourns,  midnight 
vigils,  have  been  thy  lot  ;  and  now  the  .traitor's 
meshes  are  closing  upon  thee.  Jew  will  cast  thee 
over  to  Gentile  mockery  and  insult;  Gentile  will 
toss  thee  back,  buffeted,  to  fresh  Jewish  outrage, 
—  then  the  cross,  the  lacerated  flesh,  the  slowly 
trickling  life-blood,  the  burning  thirst,  the  jeering 
multitude,  the  long  death-agony,  the  tomb.  Thy 
peace  ?  The  powers  of  earth  and  hell  have  de- 
clared it,  —  There  is  no  peace  for  thee. 

Yet  what  utterances  are  these  Avhen  he  knows 
that  he  is  going  forth  to  die  ?  Calm,  happy,  hope- 
ful, triumphant,  jubilant.  "  I  have  glorified  thee 
on  the  earth  ;  I  have  finished  the  work  which  tliou 
gavest  me  to  do;  and  now  I  come  to  thee."     Com- 


THE  PEACE   OF  CHRIST.  89 

munings,  prayers,  over  which  passes  not  a  momen- 
tary shadow  of  death,  but  full  of  the  mansions 
in  the  Father's  house,  of  a  joy  approaching  con- 
summation, of  the  union  of  the  little  company  of 
friends  so  soon  to  be  separated  in  the  home  where 
the  farewell  is  never  uttered.  What  sublime  com- 
posure through  that  night  and  morning,  before 
Caiaphas,  and  Pilate,  and  Herod,  when,  forsaken 
by  all,  he  stands  a  mark  for  taunts  and  jeers  and 
foul  reproaches,  and  bears  his  cross  on  the  way  to 
Calvary !  What  self-forgetting  love,  what  heroic 
charity,  in  his  last  filial  offices,  in  his  sympathy 
with  his  fellow-sufferer,  in  his  prayer  for  his  mur- 
derers !  What  heavenly  serenity  in  those  final 
words  that  commend  his  spirit  to  his  Father's 
hands !  O  Jesus,  was  ever  peace  like  thine  ? 
Who  would  not  J03fully  take  thy  sufferings,  if 
with  them  he  could  put  on  th}^  panoply  of  over- 
coming faith,  trust,  and  love  ?  Who  would  not 
wear  thy  crown  of  thorns,  if  with  it  he  could 
clothe  himself  with  a  tranquillity  like  thine  ? 

This  participation  in  the  peace,  as  in  the  suffer- 
ings of  Jesus,  has  been  the  blessedness  of  his  dis- 1 
ciples  in  every  age,  from  the  time  that  Stephen 
saw  him  in  glory,  and  his  face  became  as  an 
angel's  countenance,  till  now  that  the  tried  and 
stricken  all  the  Avorld  over  are  soothed  and  glad- 
dened by  the  felt  sympathy  of  their  divine  fellow- 


90  TEE  PEACE   OF  CHRIST. 

sufferer.  Not  long  ago,  a  mother  and  her  hifant 
child  were  lashed  to  a  plank  of  a  wrecked  vessel, 
and  floated  many  hours  on  the  deep.  A  boat  from 
a  passmg  ship  was  sent  to  ascertain  what  strange 
burden  it  was  that  the  billows  bore.  Before  the 
rowers  could  discern  a  human  form,  they  heard  the 
voice  of  singing  ;  and  the  song  was,  — 

"  Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul, 
Let  me  to  thy  bosom  fly, 
While  the  waters  near  me  roll, 
While  the  tempest  still  is  high." 

There  was  a  soul  that  had  realized  in  full  the 
promise,  "  My  peace  I  give  unto  thee ; "  and 
equally  profound  and  beatifying  is  the  experience 
of  unnumbered  believers  in  Jesus,  in  every  form  of 
trial  and  adversity,  and  close  on  the  margin  of  the 
death-flood.  What  are  the  elements  of  this  peace  ? 
First,  and  chief  of  all,  is  the  consciousness  of 
pure  intent,  of  upright  purpose,  of  inward  clean- 
ness and  sincerity.  With  him  it  was,  indeed,  more 
than  this,  —  the  inward  record  and  witness  of  entire 
sinlessness,  of  a  perfect  life  and  a  finished  work,  — 
all  which  we  have  not  suffered  him  to  give  us ;  but 
if  we  are,  indeed,  partakers  of  his  redemption,  if 
his  cross  has  done  its  work  for  us,  we  have,  at  least, 
a  spirit  that  willingly  harbors  no  impure  thought, 
that  wilUngly  assents  to  no  wrong  purpose,  that 
endeavors  in  simplicity  and  sincerity  to  discharge 


THE  PEACE   OF  CHRIST.  91 

its  whole  duty,  and  that  daily  grows  in  its  self- 
command,  in  its  capacity  of  service,  and  in  its  fer- 
vent desire  to  do  God's  whole  will  and  to  become 
all  that  he  would  have  it  be.  This  consciousness 
is  in  itself  peace.  It  confers  a  substantial  happi- 
ness, which  is  never  more  felt  than  in  seasons  of 
external  failure,  disappointment,  bereavement,  or 
suffering.  It  removes  all  pain  in  dying,  by  pluck- 
ing away  sin,  the  sole  "  sting  of  death ;  "  and  it  is 
the  felt  prophecy  of  the  voice  of  "  God  that  jus- 
tifieth,"  which  shall  wake  the  righteous  dead,  and 
summon  them  to  the  joy  of  their  Lord. 

With  this  consciousness,  and  with  this  alone,  is 
inseparably  connected,  as  a  second  essential  ele- 
ment of  the  peace  of  Jesus,  a  sense  of  intimate 
union  of  spirit  with  God.  How  sweet  and  tender 
is  the  expression  by  Jesus  himself  of  the  alliance 
between  faithful  obedience  and  fellowship  with 
God,  —  "  The  Father  hath  not  left  me  alone  ;  for  I 
do  always  the  things  that  please  him  ! "  So  far  as 
we  also  do  the  things  that  please  God,  there  is  for 
•us  a  fulfilment  of  the  Saviour's  prayer,  "  That  they 
all  may  be  one,  —  as  thou.  Father,  art  in  me,  and 
I  in  thee,  that  they  may  be  one  in  us."  It  is  only 
the  pure  and  loyal  heart  that  can  thus  enter  into 
communion  with  God,  —  can  see  him,  as  spirit  can 
ever  see  its  kindred  spirit.  This  vision  of  him  is 
peace.     Let  me  but  know  that  my  soul  is  precious 


92  THE  PEACE   OF  CHRIST. 

in  his  sight ;  let  me  but  feel  the  pulse  of  the  heart- 
bond  that  makes  me  his  child ;  let  me  but  say  "  My 
Father,"  with  the  same  assurance  of  reciprocal  love 
Avith  Avhich  I  use  terms  of  endearment  to  my  human 
kindred,  —  I  can  rise  superior  to  all  outward  dis- 
quiet or  privation ;  I  can  meet  tribulation  with  a 
serenity  that  cannot  be  disturbed  ;  no  storm  shall 
stir  the  depths  of  my  spirit ;  let  sorrows  fall  like 
rattling  thunderbolts,  let  clouds  and  darkness  veil 
from  my  view  all  the  joy  and  hope  of  this  outward, 
earthly  life,  I  shall  have  only  calm  and  sunlight 
within.  None  of  these  things  shall  move  me  ;  for 
"  I  am  persuaded  that  neither  death  nor  life,  nor 
things  present  nor  things  to  come,  nor  height  nor 
cle23th,  nor  any  other  thing  that  is,  shall  be  able  to 
separate  us  from  the  love  of  God  which  is  in  Christ 
Jesus  our  Lord." 

With  the  loyal  and  obedient  spirit,  and  the  conse- 
quent intimacy  of  communion  with  God,  comes,  as 
the  consummation  of  the  peace  of  Christ,  the  clear 
vision  of  immortality.  How  clear  this  w^as  to  Jesus 
no  reader  of  the  Gospels  needs  to  be  reminded. 
His  whole  tone  of  speech  and  intercourse  is  that 
of  one  who  leads  a  double  life,  each  in  its  per- 
fectness,  —  an  earthly  and  a  heavenly.  As  we 
approach  him  in  character,  we  draw  ever  nearer  to 
his  point  of  view.  The  revelation  of  immortality 
finds   free    entrance    only  into   the   soul  that  has 


THE  PEACE   OF  CEBIST.  93 

taken  possession  of  its  immortal  heritage.  It  is  of 
slender  significance  to  him  who  has  nothing  within 
him  worth  living  on,  or  fit  to  live  on,  or  capable  of 
happy  life,  apart  from  its  material  conditions  and 
surroundings.  Let  me  be  a  mere  sensualist  or  a 
mere  worldling,  with  my  desires  and  affections 
wholly  bound  up  in  earthly  objects,  and  with  only 
such  sources  of  enjoyment  as  flow  from  earthly 
fountains,  I  certainly  should  not  wish'  to  survive 
my  bodily  life  ;  and  I  do  not  think  that  such  men, 
in  general,  have  any  desire  or  expectation  of  liv- 
ing, in  their  own  persons,  after  death.  What  they 
hope  is  a  mysterious  transformation,  by  which 
they  shall  wake  from  their  last  sleep  entirely  dif- 
ferent beings,  yet  in  some  incomprehensible  way 
the  same  beings.  The  immortality  brought  to 
light  in  the  gospel  comes  in  its  peace-giving  min- 
istry only  to  those  whom  Jesus  has  led  in  the  way 
of  holiness  into  the  love  and  fellowship  of  God, 
and  who  thus  have  derived  from  him  a  life  worth 
living  on,  capable  of  surviving  its  bodily  tenement 
unimpaired.  The  consciousness  of  such  a  life  is 
peace.  Its  seat  is  beyond  the  assault  of  calamity, 
beyond  the  reach  of  grief,  and  in  death  it  remains 
unimpaired  ;  for  it  resides  not  in  the  earthly  house 
that  shall  be  dissolved,  but  in  the  renewed  and 
consecrated  soul,  built  of  God,  that  it  may  be 
"  eternal  in  the  heavens." 


94  TEE  PEACE   OF  CHRIST. 

Fidelity  in  duty,  union  of  spirit  with  God,  the 
full  assurance  of  immortality,  —  these  are  the  ele- 
ments of  the  peace  so  serene,  so  triumphant,  in 
which  Jesus  trod  the  way  of  grief  and  passed  be- 
neath the  shadow  of  death.  These  are  the  peace 
which  he  proffers  to  us,  —  his  living  gift,  his  dy- 
ing legacy.  Let  these  be  wanting,  our  happiest 
earthly  condition  is  unsheltered  and  precarious,  — 
an  out-of-door  life  which  the  first  assault  of  grief 
or  calamity  may,  and  death  assuredly  will,  shatter 
and  sweep  away.  Let  these  be  ours,  we  have  that 
which  the  world  gave  not,  and  which  the  world 
cannot  take  away,  —  a  life  beyond  life,  sure  as 
the  word  of  Jesus,  eternal  as  the  throne  of  God. 


JESUS   WALKING   ON  THE  SEA.  95 


YHI. 

JESUS  WALKING  ON  THE   SEA. 
"They  see  Jesus  walking  on  the  sea."  —  John  vi.  19. 

A  GREAT  multitude  had  gathered  around  our 
Saviour  on  the  eastern  shore  of  the  Sea  of 
Galilee.  The  feedins^  of  the  five  thousand  had 
fixed  the  eyes  of  all  upon  him  in  amazement  and 
reverence ;  and  in  the  first  tumult  of  their  enthu- 
siasm they  are  disposed  to  seize  his  person,  and  to 
force  into  his  hands  the  fallen  sceptre  of  David. 
But  the  bare  rumor,  much  more  the  initiation  of 
such  a  scheme,  would  have  drawn  down  upon  the 
infatuated  nation  the  full  weight  of  Roman  ven- 
geance. To  save  them  from  their  own  rashness, 
Jesus  withdraws  to  a  neighboring  mountain,  and 
orders  his  disciples  to  embark  for  Capernaum  with- 
out him.  A  contrary  wind,  with  the  quick,  short 
swell  which  often  makes  the  navigation  of  narrow, 
land-locked  lakes  more  dangerous  than  that  of  the 
ocean,  impedes  their  progress ;  so  that  midnight 
overtakes  them,  and  the  dense  darkness  that  pre- 
cedes the  dawn  is  already  upon  them,  with  hardly 


96  JESUS   WALKING   ON  THE  SEA. 

half  their  passage  accomplished.  In  the  deepening 
gloom,  in  the  thickening  peril,  over  the  leaping, 
crested  waves,  they  suddenly  behold  the  form  of 
their  Master.  The  sea  owns  its  Lord.  The  bil- 
lows are  a  solid  pavement  for  his  tread.  He  walks 
upon  the  lake  as  he  might  have  walked  by  its 
shore. 

Those  footsteps,  which  then  seemed  to  leave  no 
track,  remain  indelible  on  the  paths  of  the  sea. 
They  are  the  revelation  of  a  divine  providence  over 
the  heaving  deep,  —  of  a  force  mightier  than  wind 
or  wave.  They  indicate  the  control  of  Omnipo- 
tence over  every  fierce  element  and  untamable 
power  of  nature.  They  show  us  Nature,  not  her 
own,  but  God's,  —  not  governed  by  an  irresistible 
necessity,  but  her  very  laws,  which  seem  to  bind 
all  being  with  inflexible  chains,  fluent  and  duc- 
tile under  the  Almighty  hand. 

This  view  of  our  Saviour's  works  of  power  and. 
love,  as  revelations  of  the  Providence  which 
always  is,  as  the  laying  bare  of  the  springs  of 
events  that  are  always  taking  place,  is  well  worth 
a  fuller  development.  I  now  merely  refer  to  it  in 
passing,  and  shall  confine  myself  to  a  few  thoughts 
suggested  rather  by  the  words  of  my  text,  than  by 
the  event  wiiich  it  describes. 

Jesus  walked  upon  the  sea.  Does  he  not  always 
walk  upon  it  ?     Lies  not  his  path  ever  over  deep 


JESUS    WALKING   ON  THE   SEA.  97 

waters  ?  Is  not  his  majestic  tread  on  the  Galilean 
lake  typical  of  his  march  along  the  ages,  of  his 
way  in  the  heart  of  man,  of  his  path  as  our  herald 
and  guide  to  the  life  eternal  ? 

1.  Of  his  march  along  the  ages.  No  figure  seems 
more  nearly  literal  than  that  by  which  we  speak 
of  the  waves,  the  current,  or  the  sea  of  time ;  for 
how  constantly  is  the  lapse  of  years  and  centuries 
immersing  and  obliterating,  not  men  alone,  but 
races,  with  their  works  and  their  memorials ; 
washing  away  ancient  landmarks ;  sweeping  into 
oblivion  great  names,  magnificent  plans,  towering 
hopes ;  overflowing  the  dykes  set  up  by  arras  and 
laws  ;  inundating  the  most  carefully  fenced  har- 
vest-fields of  human  industry  and  enterprise ! 
How  entirel}^  since  the  Son  of  God  walked 
among  men,  has  the  whole  surface  of  humanity 
been  revolutionized !  Of  the  civilized  nations  now 
on  the  earth,  not  one  then  had  a  place  or  name, 
except  the  Hebrews,  —  that  oldest  and  youngest 
of  races ;  that  burning  bush  of  history,  whence 
sprang  the  "rod  out  of  the  stem  of  Jesse.*'  Horde 
after  horde  of  barbarians,  then  unknown,  swept 
down  the  hills  and  over  the  plains  of  southern 
Europe,  laying  waste  the  monuments  and  the  ma- 
terials of  earlier  culture,  themselves  to  rise  to  a 
sounder  and  nobler  civilization,  and  to  roll  back 
its  current  on  the  rude  Northlands  of  their  birth. 


1^8  JESUS   WALKING   ON  THE   SEA. 

The  languages  in  which  the  gospel  was  promul- 
gated are  no  longer  spoken  in  their  then  existing 
forms.  The  modes  of  social  life  then  prevalent 
are  to  be  traced  out  only  by  painful  research,  with 
large  aid  from  a  constructive  fancy.  The  religions 
that  then  had  their  world-honored  shrines  have 
left  only  their  sepulchres.  Meanwhile,  Jesus  has 
ever  walked  the  waves.  The  gospel  has  never 
been  for  one  moment  submerged,  or  been  less  than 
the  one  shaping,  controlling  power  in  the  destiny 
of  man.  The  winds  and  the  floods  have  beat 
against  it  in  vain. 

At  the  outset,  fierce  and  bitter  persecution  as- 
sailed Christianity ;  but  every  drop  of  martyr- 
blood  shed  for  its  sake  blossomed  in  some  new 
■flower  of  Heaven's  own  planting.  Its  purest  tri- 
umphs, its  most  hopeful  growths,  were  under  the 
very  agencies  employed  to  crush  it  out  of  being. 
From  beneath  the  heel  of  the  Csesars  it  mounted 
their  throne  and  swayed  their  sceptre.  Then  com- 
menced the  severer  trial  of  corrupting  prosperity ; 
and  still  could  not  its  ordinances  be  distorted 
wholly  out  of  shape,  or  its  cardinal  doctrines  wholly 
obscured,  or  its  benign  influence  wholly  obliterated. 
When  incrusted  with  superstitions  and  falsities, 
it  still  parted  not  with  its  divine  unction;  in  its 
tarnished  purity,  it  was  still  the  purest  thing 
on  earth ;  in  its  diluted  etliics,  it  still  had  power 


JESUS    WALKING   ON  THE  SEA.  99 

to  restrain  and  guide  ;  and  at  no  moment  did  the 
world  fail  to  be  immeasurably  the  better  for  it. 

Invading  races  threatened  to  destro}^  all  that 
had  been  where  they  planted  their  standard.  All 
but  the  gospel  they  did  destroy.  To  this  alone 
they  yielded  ;  and  by  this  were  their  excesses  held 
in  check,  their  barbarity  humanized,  their  idolatry 
driven  into  oblivion,  their  whole  being  refined  and 
exalted.  The  earlier  centuries  of  their  sway  seem 
dark,  on  a  superficial  retrospect,  because  the  cor- 
rupt civilization  of  the  empire  the}^  overran  had 
fallen  into  decay ;  but,  so  far  'from  meriting 
the  oj)probrious  designation  of  dark  ages,  they 
were  pre-eminently  ages  of  progress.  During 
their  lapse  noble  charities  had  birth ;  humane 
maxims  grew  current ;  forbearance  to  the  fallen 
enemy  and  respect  for  womanhood  became  essen- 
tial characteristics  of  true  valor ;  home-life,  with 
its  guardian  virtues  and  its  blessed  amenities, 
sprang  into  being  ;  freedom  found  voice  ;  domestic 
slavery  was  abolished  throughout  all  Christen- 
dom ;  and  the  world  that  emerged  from  the  obscu- 
rity of  those  unlettered  times,  showed  that  over 
the  billows  that  had  swallowed  up  the  old  Roman 
empire  Jesus  had  walked  as  sovereign,  and  his 
gospel  had  brooded  with  renovating  and  trans- 
forming efficacy. 

I  hardly  need  ask  you  to  trace  his  march  in 


100  JESUS   WALKING   ON  THE  SEA. 

these  latter  centuries,  in  which,  if  there  be  any 
yirtue,  it  is  of  his  creation;  if  any  praise,  it  has 
redounded  to  his  glory  ;  if  any  progress,  it  has 
been  inspired  and  moulded  by  him.  How  many  are 
the  forces  which,  since  the  revival  of  letters,  have 
threatened  to  ingulf  his  faith  and  his  ordinances ! 
The  sciences  of  recent  origin  have,  in  their  early 
shallowness,  dashed  upon  him  the  spray  of  their 
ignorant  scepticism ;  but  no  sooner  has  any  foun- 
tain of  knowledge  become  deep  and  clear  than 
it  has  invited  his  tread,  and  rolled  tributary  waves 
to  his  feet.  Infidelity,  by  turns  learned  and  philo- 
sophic, fierce  and  truculent,  vulgar  and  insolent, 
sarcastic  and  derisive,  according  to  the  mood  of 
the  age,  has,  like  the  dragon  in  the  Apocalypse, 
"  cast  out  of  its  mouth  water  like  a  flood,  that  it 
might  cause  him  to  be  carried  awa}^  with  the 
flood."  But  there  has  been  no  phase  of  infidelity 
which  has  not  been  self-refuted  in  its  own  absurd- 
ity or  guile,  —  none  that  has  not  supplied  fresh 
arguments  for  faith;  and  ''the  earth  hath  opened 
her  mouth,  and  swallowed  up  the  flood  which  the 
dragon  cast  out  of  his  mouth."  When  power  has 
been  arrayed  against  Christianity,  it  has  been  sub- 
dued and  annihilated.  Over  the  ever-rushing  tor- 
rent of  human  affairs,  Jesus  has  moved,  alone  able 
to  arrest  or  guide  its  flow,  and  with  an  ever  more 
kingly  march  and  more  controlling  sway. 


JESUS    WALKING   ON    THE   SEA.  101 

And,  lo !  as  the  centuries  roll  on,  his  ch-cuit 
widens ;  his  steps  lay  hold  on  the  ends  of  the  earth 
and  the  islands  of  the  sea.  He  crosses  the  ocean  ; 
and  our  New  World,  redeemed  from  savage  strife 
and  squalidness,  bears  his  name  and  echoes  his 
praise,  from  the  polar  circle  down  below  the 
southernmost  tropic.  He  resumes  his  ocean-path, 
and  cannibals'  war-spears  are  broken  up  for  the 
railings  of  his  altars ;  cruel  and  brutal  islanders  sit 
clothed  and  in  their  right  mind  at  his  feet ;  and 
each  hears  and  rehearses  the  wonderful  works  of 
God,  "in  his  own  tongue  wherein  he  was  born." 

Thus  is  Christianity  the  one  force  which,  since 
it  started,  has  not  known  dechne  ;  the  one  form 
of  thought  and  culture  which  the  ages  have  not 
swallowed  up ;  the  one  divine  presence,  which, 
like  the  ark  on  the  waters  of  the  Deluge,  has  out- 
ridden wave  and  current,  flood  and  storm. 

2.  Our  text  suggests  the  way  of  Christ  in  the 
heart  of  man.  Hoav  fierce  the  waves  that  threaten 
our  peace  and  well-being  !  How  loudly  do  the 
floods  lift  up  their  voice  !  Passion  and  appetite, 
the  lust  of  the  eye  and  the  pride  of  life,  desire  and 
fear,  —  how  do  they,  by  turns  or  together,  beat 
and  surge  in  the  soul  that  abandons  itself  to 
earthly  interests  and  pleasures !  How  many  are 
there  in  no  sense  their  own  masters,  with  their 
wills    subordinated   to  their    lower    natures,   and 


102  JESUS  WALKING   ON  THE   SEA, 

aptly  compared  by  the  apostle  to  a  wave  of  the 
sea,  storm-driven  and  wind-tossed !  What  power 
but  Christ's  can  walk  these  waves?  What  tread 
but  his  do  they  not  spurn  ?  But  let  him  enter, 
these  billows  know  their  Lord.  He  holds  no 
second  place.  The  winds  and  the  waves  are  at 
his  control,  sink  at  his  feet,  are  calm  under  his 
tread. 

What  miracles  of  mercy  has  he  not  wrought  in 
these  subject  souls  !  Here  —  you  can  recognize 
the  picture  —  was  intemperance  or  lust.  No 
friendship  or  love  could  stem  its  current.  No 
earthly  power  or  human  endeavor  was  adequate 
to  subdue  or  check  it.  In  a  turbid  whirlpool  that 
seemed  to  boil  up  from  the  bottomless  pit,  all  that 
should  have  been  the  pride  and  joy  of  life  was 
sucked  in,  and  lost.  Into  that  soul  the  Saviour 
has  found  admission,  and  the  Avhirlpool  has  sub- 
sided into  the  pit  whence  it  rose.  Passion  has 
died  away.  For  its  angry  surge  there  were  whis- 
pering murmurs,  and  then  serene  stillness.  Ap- 
petite has  been  tamed  by  his  rebuke,  and  for  its 
fierce,  tumultuous  impulse,  there  are  now  gentle 
breathings  from  the  spirit  of  heavenly  grace.  In 
the  soul  that  seemed  the  eddy  of  perpetual  storms, 
and  over  which  midnight  brooded,  all  is  now  quiet 
and  peaceful,  bright  and  pure ;  while  the  one 
form,  mirrored   from   its   glassy  surface,  sent   up 


JESUS.   WALKING   ON  THE  SEA.  103 

from  its  transparent  depths,  is  tliat  of  Jesus  walk- 
ing on  the  sea. 

Again:  in  that  spirit  —  you  can  trace  the  like- 
ness—  raged  every  unholy  passion  of  which  man 
could  be  the  object,  —  prompt  and  bitter  resent- 
ment, vindictive  anger,  burning  envy,  implacable 
malice,  —  a  sea  lashed  into  unceasing  foam  as 
by  the  bat-wings  of  graceless  demons.  Jesus  has 
entered  there  ;  and  resentment  has  ceased,  ven- 
geance has  died,  envy  finds  place  no  longer ;  for- 
bearance, love,  forgiveness,  mercy,  rule  the  ebb 
and  flow  of  thought  and  feeling:  for  he  who 
walked  on  the  Galilean  sea,  and  stilled  its  pulse- 
beat,  moves  over  this  spirit  in  the  calm  yet  om- 
nipotent energy  whereby  he  is  able  to  subdue  all 
things  unto  himself. 

In  every  soul  into  which  he  enters,  he  walks 
as  sovereign.  His,  where  a  power,  is  a  supreme, 
controlling  power.  Him  the  inward  elements 
obey.  The  forces  of  character  mould  themselves 
at  his  command.  Whatever  nature  may  have 
inherited,  whatever  example  may  have  cherished, 
whatever  habit  may  have  confirmed,  yields  to  his 
bidding ;  submits  what  he  can  make  his  own  to 
the  voice  of  his  word ;  resigns  all  else  to  his  grow- 
ing ascendency  over  mind,  heart,  and  soul. 

My  friends,  are  there  not  some  of  us  whose 
spirits  are  as  a  troubled  sea,  craving  a  controlling 


104  JESUS   WALKING   ON  THE  SEA. 

presence,  a  subduing  sovereignty  ?   In  Jesus,  then, 
let  us  behold  our  need,  our  peace,  our  joy. 

"  Thou  who  hast  thyself 
Endured  this  fleshhood,  knowing  how,  as  a  soaked 
And  sucking  vesture,  it  would  drag  us  down, 
And  choke  us  in  the  melancholy  deep. 
Sustain  us,  that  with  thee  we  walk  these  waves, 
Resisting  !   Breathe  us  upward,  thou  for  us 
Aspiring,  who  art  the  Way,  the  Truth,  the  Life  ; 
That  no  truth  henceforth  seem  indifferent, 
No  way  to  truth  laborious,  and  no  life, 
Not  even  this  life  we  live,  intolerable." 

3.  Finally,  our  text  points,  by  an  obvious  anal- 
ogy, to  our  Saviour's  path  as  our  herald  and  guide 
to  the  life  eternal.  The  waves  of  death,  the  ocean 
of  eternity,  —  how  fearful  the  plunge,  the  passage, 
when  the  inward  eye  looks  into  the  dread  and  dark 
abyss,  and  beholds  no  friendly  form,  no  sustaining 
hand !  How  intolerable  the  thought  of  dying, 
when  it  breaks  in  upon  the  midst  of  happy  life  ; 
when  it  is  forced  upon  us  by  the  passing  away  of 
those  whose  earthly  promise  but  yesterday  seemed 
as  fair  as  our  own  ;  when  we  are  constrained  to 
confess  the  frailty  of  our  hold  upon  this  world,  and 
yet  our  all  is  here,  and  no  word  or  gesture  of  invi- 
tation and  good  cheer  comes  to  us  from  the  billows 
that  roll  almost  to  our  very  feet !  These  feelings 
of  dismay  are  natural  and  right.  They  are  immeas- 
urably more  rational  and  timely  than  the  ease  and 


JESUS    WALKING   ON  THE   SEA.  105 

carelessness  into  which  we  rehipse  at  intervals ;  for 
if  sin  —  the  sting  of  death — remain  unremoved 
and  unforgiven,  nature  has  no  promise,  hope  no 
voice,  eternity  no  sign  of  good  omen.  But  One 
has  walked  these  waves,  and  lived ;  and  he  ever 
lives  ;  and  his  words  to  his  dying  disciples  are,  "  T 
w411  come  again,"  —  yes,  will  come  again,  and  re- 
new at  your  side  the  passage  from  earthly  trial  and 
suffering  to  the  broken  sepulchre,  and  thence  to 
the  right  hand  of  the  Majesty  on  high,  —  "I  will 
come  again,  and  receive  you  unto  myself,  that 
where  I  am,  there  ye  may  be  also." 

I  have  often  seen  the  death-shadow  stealing  with 
slow  yet  unmistakable  approaches  over  those  who 
had  every  thing  to  attach  them  to  this  world,  — no 
blighted  joys  or  withered  hopes,  but  only  blossoms 
of  beauty  and  buds  of  promise  on  the  life-tree. 
When  the  fatal  certaint}^  has  first  been  made 
known,  I  have  repeatedly  heard  the  utterance  of 
intense  agonj^  —  "Oh!  I  cannot  die,  —  I  cannot 
die !  This  parting  from  all  I  love  is  more  than  I 
can  bear.  I  can  never  reconcile  myself  to  being 
cut  off  from  every  thing  bright  and  beautiful 
around  me."  To  the  soul  thus  shrinking  from  the 
inevitable  flood,  thus  trembling  Avith  keen  and 
overpowering  sensibility  as  the  feet  touch  its  mar- 
gin, the  Saviour's  passage  through  the  deep  has 
been  lovingly  traced,  his  words  of  pardon  and  hope 
6* 


106  JESUS    WALKING   ON  THE   SEA. 

rehearsed,  the  pledge  of  his  guidance  assured,  the 
thought  of  crossing  the  fearful  stream,  and  enter- 
ing the  unknown  life  beyond,  hand  in  hand  with 
him  made  precious.  And  then  have  I  witnessed  the 
yanishing  of  all  sad  foreboding,  —  the  established 
reign  of  sweet  peace,  and  of  hope,  its  anchor  cast 
Avithin  the  veil.  Fear  has  yielded  place  to  a  seren- 
ity which  the  gnawings  of  disease,  the  slow,  sure 
finger  of  decay,  the  conscious  approach  to  the 
grave,  could  not  disturb.  No  longer  goes  forth 
the  agonizing  cry,  "  Save,  Lord,  or  I  perish ! "  But, 
as  the  sacred  form,  for  us  made  mortal,  is  beheld 
by  the  faith-enlightened  vision,  the  soul's  voice  is 
that  of  the  ardent  apostle,  "  Lord,  if  it  be  thou,  bid 
me  come  unto  thee  on  the  water."  Yes,  Jesus, 
seen  by  the  death-bound  spirit,  looses  all  the  fear 
and  the  pain  of  dying ;  and  the  young,  the  feeble, 
those  who  have  the  strongest  hold  on  life,  those 
who  have  the  most  to  leave  behind,  are  among  the 
foremost  in  their  readiness  to  go,  —  in  their  desire 
to  depart  and  be  with  Christ. 

My  friends,  surrounded  as  we  are  by  the  memo- 
rials of  human  frailty,  reminded  so  often  that  ia 
the  midst  of  life  open  the  gates  of  death,  is  there 
not  intense  and  perpetual  reason  for  our  meeting 
its  fear  before  its  shadow  shall  gather  over  our 
path  ?  Is  there  not  in  God's  constant  providence 
an  incessant  call  to  all  of  us  to  live  alwaj^s  pre- 


JESUS   WALKING   ON  THE  SEA.  107 

pared  for  the  last  of  earth  and  the  dawn  of  heaven? 
I  speak  of  what  I  know ;  I  testify  of  what  I  have 
seen.  I  have  stood  by  many  death-beds,  and  have 
gone  down  in  the  profoundest  sympathy  to  the 
margm  of  the  separating  stream  witli  many  souls 
that  have  been  given  to  my  charge  ;  and  I  well 
know  how  precious  is  the  name  of  Jesus  in  the  ear 
of  the  dying,  and  how  utterly  inadequate  to  the 
needs  of  the  closing  hour  are  all  other  names  and 
resources.  I  feel  assured  that  there  can  be  no  sup- 
port for  us,  vrhen  "  sunk  low,"  as  we  must  be  full 
soon  at  the  farthest,  unless  we  be 

"  Mounted  high 
Through  the  dear  might  of  him  that  walked  the  waves." 

With  him  present  to  our  faith,  his  reanimated  form 
as  he  comes  forth  new-born  from  the  sepulchre, 
his  burial-garments  laid  aside  as  trophies  of  his 
victory  and  our  own,  we  can  commit  ourselves  to 
the  dark,  cold  stream  that  divides  time  from  eter- 
nity, and  there  shall  be  only  solemn  joy  in  our 
hearts ;  for  where  he  treads,  his  follower  cannot 
sink ;  wdiile  he  sustains,  there  is  no  room  for  fear. 
Our  hands  in  his,  death  is  life ;  and  across  its 
waves  is  the  way  to  the  Father's  house  on  high. 


108  CnniST  IN  THE  FAMILY. 


IX. 

CHRIST    IN    THE    FAMILY. 

"  There  they  made  him  a  supper,  and  Martha  served ;  but  Lazarus  was 
one  of  them  that  sat  at  the  table  with  him."  — John  xii.  2. 

/^UR  Saviour  had  come  toward  Jerusalem  to 
^^  die.  On  the  morrow  he  was  to  make  that 
meekly  triumphant  entrance  into  the  cit3%  wliose 
hosannas  were  so  soon  to  be  changed  into  execra- 
tions. He  loved  this  family  at  Bethany,  and  they 
deemed  no  privilege  so  great  as  that  of  preparing 
his  welcome.  How  full  of  tenderness  and  grati- 
tude must  have  been  the  welcome  now,  with  the 
echo  of  that  wakening  voice  still  pulsing  on  the  in- 
ward ear, — with  the  recent  remembrance  of  the 
funeral  wail  merged  in  solemn  praise,  as  he  who 
was  dead  came  forth  alive  !  Mark  the  group. 
There  is  the  assiduous  Martha,  deeming  her  care 
and  painstaking  hallowed  by  the  sacred  presence. 
There  is  the  new-born  from  the  sepulchre,  looking 
again  into  those  eyes  which  had  poured  fresh  life- 
beams  into  his  own.  There  is  the  gentle,  loving 
Mary,  drinking  in  the  divine  words  which  are  her 


CHRIST  IN  THE  FAMILY.  109 

portion  and  her  joy,  and  meditating  the  costly 
tribute  for  her  wayworn  guest,  to  be  furnished  by 
the  very  unguents  that  had  remained  over  from  the 
rites  of  sorrowing  love  for  her  brother. 

The  scene  suggests  Christ  in  the  family,  —  Christ 
the  welcome  guest  in  the  home-circle.  I  propose 
to  speak  of  our  need  of  Christ  in  the  family. 

1.  We  need  him,  first,  in  the  sacred  trust,  com- 
mitted to  us,  of  one  another's  happiness.  It  is 
impossible  to  overestimate  the  proportion  of  our 
happiness  derived  from  domestic  relations,  as  com- 
pared to  that  which  comes  from  all  other  earthly 
sources  united,  or  the  degree  to  which  causes  of 
domestic  disquiet  can  neutralize  prosperity,  honor, 
and  every  external  object  of  desire.  In  our  out- 
of-door  life  many  of  us  are  able  to  case  ourselves 
in  an  armor  of  determined  purpose,  resolute  en- 
deavor, and  strenuous  industry,  which  is  proof 
against  pett}^  annoyances.  But  at  home,  this  ar- 
mor is  thrown  aside ;  the  whole  nervous  tissue  of 
the  soul,  the  minute  network  of  sentiment  and 
feeling,  is  laid  bare  ;  every  shrinking  fibre  of  sen- 
sibility is  exposed  without  protection,  and  the 
slightest  puncture  may  produce  untold  agony.  Or, 
to  vary  the  figure,  these  complex,  many-stringed 
lyres  of  mind  and  soul,  sense  and  feeling,  may, 
out-of-doors,  be  set  ajar,  and  their  discord  shall 
be  lost  in  the  wind,  or  merged  in  the  tumultuous 


110  CHRIST  IN  THE  FAMILY, 

noises  of  the  busy  world ;  but  within  close  walls 
every  discordant  note  falls  with  painful  stroke  on 
the  ear,  and  its  harsh  echo  vibrates  for  hours,  and 
gathers  strength  from  reverberation. 

To  preserve  the  home-harmony,  we  need  more 
than  the  general  goodness,  the  cardinal  virtues, 
enforced  by  the  natural  conscience  and  by  public 
opinion.  We  need  that  Christ  tune  each  throbbing 
string  of  each  living  lyre.  The  evangelic  virtues 
are  precisely  those  which  alone  can  make  a  happy 
family.  There  must  be,  not  pride,  but  that  modest 
and  lowly  self-estimate  which  shall  concede  his 
due  and  more  to  every  member  of  the  circle  ;  not 
self-assertion  and  obstinate  adherence  to  one's  own 
preference  in  things  indifferent,  but  a  mutual 
yielding,  "in  honor  preferring  one  another;"  not 
the  captious  spirit,  on  the  w^atch  for  causes  of 
offence,  but  the  heart  slow  of  suspicion,  and  inca- 
pable of  imagining  slight  or  wrong  where  none  is 
intended ;  not  quick  resentment,  but  forbearance 
and  long-suffering,  in  the  consciousness  that,  in 
the  alternations  of  temper  and  feeling  to  which 
we  all  are  liable,  each  may  claim  to-morrow  the 
kind  construction  that  is  demanded  of  him  to-day ; 
not  the  rough,  curt  answer,  the  abrupt  utterance, 
the  ungentle  mien,  but  the  meekness  and  courtesy, 
not  to  be  simulated,  which  are  the  spontaneous, 
everj^-day  garb  of  a  truly  Christ-like  soul ;  not  the 


CHRIST  IN  THE  FAMILY.  Ill 

selfish  indolence,  good-natured  thougji  it  be,  which 
quietly  lets  itself  be  ministered  to,  and  takes  as 
rightfully  its  own  the  sunny  side,  the  place  of  privi- 
lege, the  Benjamin's  portion,  but  the  spirit  of  wil- 
ling and  cheerful  service,  which  claims  its  unstinted 
share  in  the  division  of  every  common  burden,  and 
which  never  forgets  that  the  Lord  of  men  and 
of  angels  came  to  minister,  not  to  be  ministered 
unto,  and  pronounced  him  the  greatest  who  makes 
himself  the  least  and  the  servant  of  all. 

We  all  know  that  these  are  the  elements  of  do- 
mestic peace  and  happiness.  We  who  trust  that 
we  have  learned  enough  of  Christ  to  be  saved 
from  gross  sins  and  great  transgressions,  have, 
most  of  us,  been  oftener  called  to  penitence  and 
self-humiliation  for  offences  under  these  heads 
than  for  all  things  else.  Now  I  know  not  how  we 
are  to  overcome  these  infirmities  of  temper,  these 
easily  besetting  sins,  except  as  we  emulate  the  be- 
loved family  of  Bethany,  —  like  Martha,  serve 
Christ  in  the  routine  of  domestic  care  and  duty ; 
like  Mary,  have  our  chosen  place  at  his  feet,  and 
under  the  word-fall  of  his  lips ;  like  Lazarus,  have 
him  at  our  side  when  we  sit  at  table.  We  need 
to  contemplate  his  meek  and  gentle  spirit,  his  kind 
and  courteous  mien,  his  self-sacrifice,  his  constant 
thought  and  care  for  those  around  him,  his  genial 
sympathy  alike  with  joy  and  with  grief,  till  our 


112  CHRIST  IN   THE   FAMILY. 

souls  receive  the  image  we  behold,  and  the  loving 
Christ  be  fully  formed  within  us.  Thus,  and  thus 
only,  can  the  earthly  family  grow  into  the  simili- 
tude of  the  heavenly,  and  the  union  here  be 
prophetic  of  that  which  shall  make  us  one  in 
the  Father's  house  on  high. 

2.  We  need  Christ  with  us  in  our  homes,  when 
"we  consider  our  mutual  influence  in  the  formation 
of  character.  Talk  as  we  may  of  our  separate 
individualities,  we  cannot  so  fence  them  in  that 
they  shall  not  be  invaded  and  affected  by  their 
surroundings  and  associations.  There  is  perpetual 
action  and  reaction,  the  parent  acting  upon  the 
child,  the  child  hardly  less  upon  the  parent,  each 
brother  and  sister  upon  every  other  member  of  the 
little  flock. 

Parents,  your  precepts  have  little  power,  un- 
seconded  by  your  example.  Your  children  will 
be,  not  what  you  teach,  but  what  you  are.  The 
tone  of  frankness,  sincerit}^  meekness,  kindness, 
which  3^ou  give  to  your  whole  domestic  inter- 
course, will  shape  their  characters ;  and  the  faults 
which  in  you  are  home-faults,  may  in  them  grow 
into  exaggerated  forms  in  a  larger  sphere.  The 
petty  shams  and  falsities,  the  concealments  and 
equivocations  in  paltry  matters,  which  you  may 
practise  with  no  compunction,  may  destroy  in 
them  all  reverence  for  truth  and  right;  and  the 


CHRTST  IN  THE  FAMILY.  113 

flagrant  guilt  of  their  maturer  years  may  be  but 
the  natural  outgrowth  of  what  your  sluggish  con- 
science refused  to  account  as  sin.  Your  petulance 
or  violence,  your  selfishness  or  penuriousness, 
shielded  from  the  world's  eye,  yet  unrestrained 
where  unseen,  may  in  them  gain  so  early  and  vig- 
orous a  growth  as  to  strangle  every  germ  of  better 
feeling  or  higher  principle. 

Not  on  the  parents  alone  does  this  responsibility 
rest.  Every  member  of  the  circle  that  has  arrived 
at  self-determining  years,  may,  by  follies,  faults,  or 
sins,  regarded  at  first  with  leniency,  then  with 
indulgence,  too  often  at  length  with  complacency, 
make  inroads  on  the  characters  even  of  his  parents 
and  elders  ;  so  that  he  who  is  at  first  constrained, 
in  agony  of  spirit,  to  suffer  the  presence  of  moral 
evil  in  his  household,  becomes  more  and  more  in 
heart,  if  not  in  act,  an  accomplice  in  it  and  a  par- 
taker of  it. 

On  the  other  hand,  there  is  no  benign  influence 
that  can  bear  comparison  with  the  power  of  a  good 
life,  —  the  radiation  of  a  Christ-like  spirit.  Like 
the  light  of  mid-day,  it  pervades  the  whole  house, 
and  you  cannot  shut  it  out.  Without  ostentation, 
seen ;  without  profession,  felt ;  veiled,  it  may  be, 
in  profound  humility,  yet  making  the  thickest  veil 
transparent,  —  it  transfuses  itself  into  the  common 
life  of  the  family,  and  all  beneath  the  roof  imbibe 


114  CHRIST  IN  THE  FAMILY. 

its  blessing.  All^  I  say ;  for,  if  there  be  those 
whom  it  fails  to  inspire  with  the  love  of  goodness, 
at  least,  by  the  example  of  goodness,  it  saves  their 
consciences  from  utter  torpidity,  keeps  them  aware 
of  what  they  ought  to  be,  and  therefore  gives 
added  hope  of  their  return  to  a  right  mind. 

Thus  the  life  consecrated  to  duty,  filled  with 
meekness  and  love,  true  and  pure,  reverent  and 
devout,  is  the  one  mode  above  all  others  in  wliich 
we  may  minister  to  the  growth  of  character  among 
those  dearest  to  us,  and  may  neutralize  for  them 
the  power  of  evil  influence.  Without  this,  boly 
precept,  sanctimonious  conversation,  the  set  pa- 
rade and  form  of  piety,  nay,  even  the  most  sacred 
exercises  of  domestic  devotion,  will  do  positive 
harm ;  for  to  impressible  minds  and  ductile  char- 
acters they  will  inevitably  connect  with  religious 
words  and  observances  all  the  repulsive  associa- 
tions that  can  grow  from  bad  tempers,  selfish  hab- 
its, and  careless  lives. 

I  would  urge,  with  the  strongest  emphasis,  the 
establishment  of  the  family  altar  in  every  house- 
hold, not  only  for  its  appropriateness  ^nd  its  in- 
trinsic significance,  but  even  more  for  its  power 
over  character.  He  who  olliciates  as  priest  in  the 
daily  oblation  of  praise  and  prayer  cannot  but  feel 
constraining  motives  to  cultivate  a  priestly  spirit 
and  to  lead  a  priestly  life.     The  holy  names  Avhich 


CHRIST  IN  THE  FAMILY.  115 

he  takes  upon  his  lips  in  the  morning  must  remain 
near  his  thought  through  the  day ;  and  unless  his 
conscience  be  utterly  dead,  he  will  not,  cannot,  so 
live  that  his  prayer  shall  be  an  abomination,  and 
the  lif ting-up  of  his  hands  to  God  profaneness  and 
blasphemy.  If  he  lead  his  family  in  devotion,  he 
must  —  it  might  seem  inevitably  —  seek  to  be  their 
exemplar  in  duty,  and  to  diffuse  among  them  in 
daily  life  the  blessedness  he  invokes  for  them 
in  his  prayer. 

The  intense  importance  of  the  mutual  home- 
influence  of  which  I  am  speaking  will  appear, 
when  we  consider  one  obvious  reason  why  char- 
acter should  have  a  more  rapid  growth  in  the 
family  than  elsewhere.  It  is  this  :  Our  passive 
hours  are  largely  spent  at  home.  By  passive  I 
denote  the  state  in  which  we  are  open  without 
defence  to  impressions  from  other  persons  and 
external  objects  and  events,  —  in  which  we  make 
no  resistance  of  the  will  to  outside  influences,  and 
take  in  without  questioning  whatever  thoughts  or 
sentiments  crave  admission.  From  the  treasury  of 
the  heart,  thus  filled  we  often  know  not  how,  the 
words  of  our  lips  and  the  motives  of  our  active 
hours  are  drawn.  Now  this  passive,  impressible, 
recipient  life  we  in  the  family  are  constantly  feed- 
ing, each  in  every  other.  By  means  of  it,  each, 
with  rare  exceptions,  will  in  a  good  measure  grow 


116  CHRIST  IN  THE  FAMILY. 

into  the  aggregate  or  average  moral  tone  and  feel- 
ing of  all ;  and  while  a  more  commanding  position, 
superior  age,  or  greater  strength  of  intellect  will 
make  a  deeper  iDipression,  and  impart  more  of 
itself,  there  is  not  one  of  the  circle  who  does  not 
furnish  his  own  contribution  of  good  or  evil  to  the 
collective  character,  and  to  each  individual  dispo- 
sition, habit  of  speech,  and  manner  of  life. 

Thus,  if  in  the  great  world,  immeasurably  more 
in  our  own  households,  we  are  set  for  the  fall  or 
the  rising  of  those  around  us ;  so  that  every  law 
of  love  commends  to  us  the  sentiment  of  our 
Saviour,  "  For  their  sakes  I  sanctify  myself." 
For  this  inevitable  influence  we  can  be  furnished 
only  by  Christ  as  an  always  welcome  guest.  We 
need  to  breathe  in  his  spirit  of  submission  and 
trust,  of  obedience  and  love,  to  mark  his  uninter- 
mitted  fidelity,  to  follow  him  on  his  round  of  self- 
denying  service,  to  stand  in  adoring  faith  by  his 
cross,  and  to  catch  the  rays  of  his  countenance  till 
they  are  phototyped  on  our  hearts,  to  be  outrayed 
spontaneously  in  that  social  intercourse  whereby 
we  may  stamp  the  same  divine  impress  on  the 
souls  which  the  Lord  has  "  bound  in  the  bundle 
of  life  "  with  our  own. 

3.  We  need  Jesus  in  the  family  in  our  seasons 
of  trial,  grief,  and  desolation.  How  many  are  the 
times   when   our  love   is    helpless   and   hopeless; 


CHRIST  IN  TEE  FAMILY.  117 

when  calamities  which  we  cannot  avert  hang  over 
the  home  circle ;  when  the  heart  sinks  under  the 
shadow  of  impending  or  the  dense  gloom  of  expe- 
rienced bereavement ;  when  we  are  made  to  feel 
how  truly  we  dwell  in  houses  of  clay  and  have 
our  tabernacle  in  the  dust !  At  such  seasons,  past 
prosperity,  the  continued  affluence  of  earthly  re- 
sources, the  crowding  around  us  of  objects  that 
we  can  no  longer  enjoy,  only  enhances  our  misery. 
Our  sole  resource  is  the  compassion,  the  love,  the 
promises  of  him  to  whom  the  sisters  of  Bethany 
resorted  in  their  need.  We  crave  his  assurance  of 
the  Father's  unchanging  mercy  and  unslumbering 
providence,  his  tender  sympathy  with  our  fear  and 
grief,  his  words  of  eternal  life,  the  vision  of  his 
risen  form  as  he  comes  forth  from  the  sepulchre. 
If  he  be  with  us,  there  is  no  fear,  no  agonizing 
doubt,  no  rayless  despondency.  We  can  yield  up 
the  departing  spirit  to  the  sure  mercy  of  the  risen 
Redeemer.  We  can  trace  the  way  of  those  whom 
the  Lord  loves,  when,  no  longer  seen  by  mortal 
eye,  they  pass  from  the  outer  court  into  the  holy 
of  holies,  from  the  lower  to  the  higher  apartments 
of  the  universal  house  of  God. 

Touchingly  beautiful  and  richly  suggestive  was 
the  conduct  of  Martha  and  Mary  in  their  season 
of  trial  and  sorrow.  Jesus  had  been  their  guest 
(oh,  let  him  be  ours  !)  in  the  days  of  health  and 


118  CHRIST  IN  THE  FAMILY, 

hope,  and  had  endeared  himself  to  them  by  his 
genial  sympathy  with  their  domestic  cares  and 
joys ;  and  no  sooner  is  their  dear  brother  in  peril, 
than  they  feel  that  they  cannot  keep  the  weary 
watch  without  their  friend.  They  send  the  mes- 
sage, "Behold,  he  whom  thou  lovest  is  sick." 
The  dreaded  close  comes  Ijefore  he  arrives,  and 
the  staff  and  joy  of  their  little  household  is  laid  in 
the  sepulchre.  But  when  he  reaches  them,  light 
breaks  in  upon  their  gloom.  "  Lord,  if  thou  hadst 
been  here,"  says  Martha,  "  my  brother  had  not 
died  ;  "  and  then,  with  the  assurance  that  it  is  not 
too  great  a  boon  for  him  to  bestow,  and  with  the 
trembling  hope  that  it  may  not  be  too  much  for 
them  to  receive,  she  adds,  "  But  I  know  that 
even  now,  whatsoever  thou  wilt  ask  of  God,  God 
will  give  it  thee."  Such,  Christian  friends,  have 
been  the  outgoings  of  your  souls  to  your  Saviour, 
when  the  lives  of  those  dear  both  to  him  and  to 
you  have  flickered,  have  hung  in  suspense  over 
the  verge  of  death,  have  passed  away.  Your  con- 
solation has  flowed  from  the  felt  presence  of  your 
Redeemer.  You  have  poured,  as  into  the  ear  of 
an  ever-loving  friend,  your  fears  and  your  yearn- 
ings ;  and  when  there  was  no  longer  the  fading 
hope  that  had  its  hold  on  earth,  your  hope  has 
taken  the  wings   of  faith;   your  fervent   thanks 


CHRIST  IN  THE  FAMILY.  119 

have  gone  up  to  Christ,  "•  the  Resurrection  and 
the  Life,"  and  the  assurance,  "  He  shall  rise 
again,"  has  been  as  clear  and  strong  as  if  the 
words  had  floated  down  to  you  from  the  parted 
heavens. 

4.  Finally,  we  need  Christ  with  us  iu  the  famil}^ 
when  we  remember  that  in  an  earthly  sense  our 
domestic  ties  are  as  frail  as  they  are  strong  ;  that, 
with  undying  love,  there  must  be  parting  upon 
parting,  till  not  one  of  the  circle  shall  remain  to 
chronicle  the  goings  of  the  death-angel ;  that  in  a 
few  years  the  places  that  know  us  will  barely  and 
scarcely  retain  the  vague  memory  of  our  names. 
Only  the  family  with  which  Christ  is  a  welcome 
guest  and  a  familiar  friend  can  feel  that  its  union 
is  beyond  the  touch  of  death.  Only  as  we  are  one 
in  him,  can  we  be  assured  that  we  are  one  for  ever. 
Only  he  Avho  gave  Lazarus  to  his  sisters  can  give 
us  to  one  another  where  there  shall  be  no  death 
and  no  parting.  How  unspeakably  blessed  is  it  to 
feel  that  those  whom  God  has  joined  death  shall 
not  keep  asunder ;  to  know  that  with  these  bonds 
of  blood  and  birth,  which,  sacred  as  they  are,  are  in 
their  very  source  and  nature  perishable,  are  inter- 
twined amaranthine  heart-bonds  of  spiritual  kin- 
dred, —  that  we  are  one  in  Christ,  in  whom  the 
dead  live,  and  in  whom  the  divided  and  bereaved 


120  CHRIST  IN  THE  FAMILY. 

family,  trusting  together  in  liis  redemption,  shall 
be  united  in  angel- worship  and  immortal  love  ! 

"  Above  the  gloomy  grave  our  hope  ascends, 
E'en  as  the  moon  above  the  silent  mountains. 
These  partings  are  reunions  in  the  skies. 
To  that  great  company  of  holy  ones 
They  go  ;  and  we  that  stay  how  soon  shall  follow ' 
Through  all  our  stubborn  fears  and  craggy  doubts 
Are  Christ-worn  paths  that  lead  into  the  future, 
Well-beaten  by  the  stress  of  pious  feet. 
Let  not  our  hearts  be  troubled  ;  Christ  has  gone 
Before  ;  w^hither  we  know,  the  way  we  know." 


JESUS  AND   THE   COMMON  PEOPLE.       121 


w 


JESUS   AND    THE    COMMON   PEOPLE. 
The  common  people  heard  him  gladly."  —  Mark  xii.  37. 

HY  ?    Because  he  was  one  of  them  in  edu- 


cation, position,  habits  of  *  living  ;  because 
he  never  disowned  his  condition  or  was  ashamed 
of  it;  and  because,  at  the  same  time, he  made  them 
feel  that  their  fraternity  was  honored  and  exalted 
by  his  belonging  to  it.  The  common  people  dis- 
like, despise  upstarts  from  their  own  ranks,  —  men 
who  give  themselves,  without  warrant  of  pedigree, 
airs  of  hereditary  gentility,  —  persons  of  talent  and 
genius,  from  among  themselves,  who  are  unduly 
self-conscious,  or  pretentious,  or  conceited.  But 
they  have  a  peculiar  sense  of  ownership  in  what- 
ever of  real  worth  has  grown  on  their  soil  and  does 
not  disdain  it.  Now,  if  we  will  for  the  moment 
devest  Jesus  of  the  prestige  that  belongs  to  him  as 
the  Author  and  Finisher  of  our  faith,  and  think  of 
him  as  he  was  regarded  at  the  outset  by  his  kin- 
dred and  friends,  we  shall  see  that  throughout  his 
life  he  attached  himself,  not  to  the  rulers,  or  rich 
6 


122       JESUS  AND   TEE   COMMON  PEOPLE. 

men,  or  leaders  in  society,  but  to  the  common  peo- 
ple ;  that  he  was  seldom  a  guest  at  a  sumptuous 
table,  and  that  when  he  was  so,  he  was  treated 
rudely,  as  one  not  belonging  there  ;  that  his  asso- 
ciates were  principally  intelligent  fishermen,  —  with 
one  tax-gatherer,  who  was,  though  probably  a  man. 
of  some  substance,  of  inferior  social  standing ;  for, 
when  he  wanted  to  make  an  entertainment  for  the 
Teacher,  he  could  fill  his  table  only  by  inviting 
persons  whom  the  Pharisees  did  not  consider  as 
respectable.  The  apostles  were,  as  I  have  said, 
sensible  men,  but  they  were  of  the  common  people  ; 
when  in  Jerusalem,  they  evidently  felt  that  they 
were  but  obscure  provincials  ;  and  it  was  in  trying 
to  cover  up  the  unmistakable  tokens  of  his  Galilean 
rusticity  that  Peter  was  led  on  to  deny  his  Master, 
—  an  occasion,  too,  on  which  he  could  curse  and 
swear,  which  was  as  coarse  and  vulgar  then  as  it 
is  now,  and  always  shows,  if  not  low  birth,  low 
breeding. 

But  though  Jesus  had  no  outward  advantages 
above  the  common  people,  they  evidently  owned 
him  as  their  superior,  and  gladly  listened  to  him, 
because  his  meekness  and  his  modesty  were  equal 
to  his  wisdom,  —  because  he  not  only  said  what 
they  wanted  and  needed  to  hear,  but  said  it  always 
gently  and  kindly.  They  must  have  felt  the  con- 
trast between  themselves  and  him ;  but  he  never 


JESUS  AND   THE   COMMON  PEOPLE.       123 

obtruded  it  upon  them,  and  whenever  he  could,  he 
rebuked  them  simply  by  showing  them  the  better 
way. 

There  cannot  be  a  more  apt  illustration  of  this 
tacit,  yet  most  efficient  mode  of  rebuke  than  the 
scene  at  the  paschal  supper.  The  disciples  are  in 
a  high  quarrel.  One  like  themselves,  vexed  with 
their  loud  and  angry  words,  would  have  tried  to 
stop  them  by  making  a  third  party  in  the  quarrel, 
and  perhaps  by  being  louder  and  more  angry  than 
any  of  the  rest.  What  does  Jesus  do  ?  They  are 
disputing  as  to  their  respective  claims  to  pre- 
cedence,—  very  probably  for  the  place  of  honor  at 
that  very  table,  or,  perhaps,  as  to  the  performance 
on  that  occasion  of  the  necessary  services  which 
must  be  managed  somehow  among  themselves,  as 
they  cannot  afford  to  hire  attendants.  He  whom 
they  all  regard  as  their  Chief  and  Master  takes  the 
place  of  a  servant,  performs  for  all  of  them  the  me- 
nial office  which  custom  and  comfort  demanded,  but 
which  not  one  of  them  would  for  the  world  have 
performed  for  another,  and  thus  shames  them  out 
of  their  strife,  at  the  same  time  teaching  them 
so  that  they  could  never  have  forgotten  the  les- 
son, that  service  is  always  honorable  and  glorious ; 
that  he  is  the  greatest  who  at  the  call  of  love  or 
duty  can  make  himself  the  least;  that  humility 
alone  exalts  and  enobles. 


124       JESUS  AND   TEE   COMMON  PEOPLE. 

Thus  meek,  lowly,  genial,  thoughtful  for  others, 
winning  and  never  repelling,  he  goes  about  among 
those  simple  Galileans ;  is  with  them  at  the  mar- 
riage, by  the  sick-bed,  at  the  grave-side,  in  their 
homes,  in  their  fishing-boats,  laying  his  hands  in 
blessing  on  their  children's  heads,  discharging  all 
kindly  ministries  for  them  in  their  penury,  their 
trials,  and  their  griefs,  never  assuming  aught  to 
himself  as  their  superior,  but  always  attracting  the 
homage  he  does  not  claim,  the  reverence  he  does 
not  challeno^e. 

There  are  in  the  life  of  Jesus  several  scenes  that 
vividly  illustrate  the  sweetness  and  affability  of 
his  intercourse.  Some  of  them  are  traditionally 
stiffened  into  a  cold  and  rigid  pietism,  and  thus 
deprived  of  their  native  charm.  This  is  the  case 
with  the  visit  to  Martha  and  Mary  in  Bethany, 
recorded  by  St.  Luke.  That  religion  is  the  "  one 
thing  needful,"  and  the  ''  good  part,"  no  serious 
reader  of  the  New  Testament  can  doubt,  nor  yet 
that  Mary  made  her  choice  of  eternal  blessedness 
in  seeking  her  place  at  the  Saviour's  feet.  Yet 
in  this  special  narrative,  we  have,  as  it  seems  to 
me,  not  a  homily  in  brief,  but  a  sketch  of  our 
Saviour's  life  among  his  friends,  showing  how 
simple,  unexacting,  kindlj^,  were  his  speech  and 
manners  as  a  guest.  Martha  is  busy  in  preparing 
the  best  that  the  house  can  afford  for  his  supper. 


JESUS  AND    THE   COMMON  PEOPLE.       125 

Mary  takes  lier  seat  by  him,  to  listen  to  those 
words  which  she  has  learned  so  dearly  to  love. 
Martha,  not  peevishly,  but  rather  half  playfully, 
asks  him  to  send  her  sister  to  help  her.  He  re- 
plies (if  I  may  be  permitted  to  express  by  a  para- 
phrase the  sense  which  his  words  convey  to  my 
mind),  "  Martha,  you  are  taking  too  much  trouble 
for  your  friend's  entertainment.  All  that  he  wants 
is  your  society.  Mary  is  giving  me  the  one  thing 
needful,  showing  the  better  part  of  hospitality,  in 
entertaining  me  by  her  presence  and  conversation, 
rather  than  by  the  care  and  labor  of  a  sumptuous 
repast."  No  wonder  was  it  that  one  who  bore  his 
high  commission  thus  gently  and  lovingly  found 
his  most  willing  hearers  among  those  common  peo- 
ple, whom  he  always  treated  as  socially  his  peers, 
yet  who  were  never  Avith  him  without  feeling  that 
they  were  in  a  superior  presence,  —  without  being 
suffused  with  a  vague,  yet  realizing  sense  of  the 
divine  in  him,  —  all  the  more  penetrating  because 
of  his  frank  simplicity,  his  ready  companionship, 
his  lowliness  of  mien  and  manner. 

The  common  people  heard  him  gladly,  also,  be- 
cause his  teachings,  though  they  were  of  divine 
and  heavenly  things,  were  not  above  the  level  of 
their  easy  comprehension.  He  drew  his  lessons 
from  the  occasion,  or  from  the  objects  about  him. 
Our  translation  has   a    stately   formalism    in   its 


126       JESUS  AND   THE   COMMON  PEOPLE. 

phraseology,  which,  while  it  presences  the  dignity, 
often  fails  of  representing  the  aptness,  of  his  dis- 
course. Thus,  standing  on  the  hill-top  on  a  glo- 
rious spring  day,  he  says,  not  with  oratorical 
rotundness,  "  Behold  the  fowls  of  the  air  ;  behold 
the  lilies  of  the  field ;  "  but,  "  See  those  birds ;  it 
is  your  Father  that  feeds  them  ;  will  he  not  much 
more  care  for  you  ?  Look  at  those  lilies.  Did 
Solomon  ever  wear  any  thing  half  so  beautiful  ? 
It  is  your  Father  that  makes  them  so  lovely  ;  can- 
not his  children  trust  themselves  in  his  hands  ?  " 

The  parables  of  Jesus  are  .  founded  on  ob- 
jects and  incidents  familiar  to  his  hearers,  —  the 
sower ;  the  seeds  which,  as  they  spring  up,  look  so 
like  the  wheat  that  it  is  hard  to  tell  them  apart ; 
the  mustard-seed ;  the  contents  of  a  drag-net ; 
the  marriage-j^rocession  by  torch-light ;  the  fre- 
quent robberies  on  the  lonely  road  from  Jerusalem 
to  Jericho.  These  themes  could  not  but  attract 
the  attention,  dwell  in  the  memory,  and  gradually 
develop  the  lessons  —  often  not  understood  at  the 
outset  —  of  which  they  were  made  the  vehicles. 
Had  the  same  truths  been  uttered  in  dogmatic 
language,  they  would  have  found  few  or  no  lis- 
teners, or  have  been  forgotten  as  soon  as  heard. 
How  profound  far-reaching,  all-embracing  were, 
often,  the  instructions  which  he  gave  in  the  sim- 
plest, briefest  form  imaginable,  in  connection  with 


JESUS  AND   THE   COMMON  PEOPLE.       127 

some  transient  event  or  trivial  object !  Thus  the 
whole  theory  of  benevolence  is  embodied  in  his 
comment  on  the  widow's  two  mites  thrown  into 
the  treasury.  A  set  discourse  upon  charity  would 
have  died  on  the  air ;  but  those  two  mites,  with 
his  blessing,  have  multiplied  themselves  millions 
upon  millions  of  times,  in  little  gifts  and  services 
which  without  his  words  would  have  been  thouo^ht 
not  worth  bestowing,  but  which  in  their  sum  total 
have  undoubtedly  far  exceeded,  the  great  gifts  and 
sj^lendid  services  of  the  rich  and  strong.  The 
story  of  the  tribute-money  has  a  singular  perti- 
nence and  beauty  in  this  aspect.  He  was  asked 
the  ensnaring  and  perilous  question  whether  it 
was  lawful  for  a  loyal  Hebrew  to  pay  tribute  to 
Csesar.  Had  he  discoursed  on  the  rights  and  du- 
ties of  rulers  and  subjects,  he  might  have  given 
anew  a  momentary  agitation  to  the  troubled  wa- 
ters ;  yet  his  words  would  have  left  no  durable 
impression,  and  we  probably  should  never  have 
heard  of  them.  But  he  asks  to  see  the  coin 
which  was  in  as  common  use  among  the  people 
around  him  as  the  half-dime  is  with  us.  ''  Whose 
head  is  this  on  the  denarius?"  "Csesar's."  "You 
use  his  money,  then  ;  you  avail  yourselves  of  the 
benefits  of  his  reign  ;  you  look  to  him  or  his 
government  to  guarantee  the  adequate  weight  and 
purity  of  the  coin  employed  in  your  daily  traffic. 


128      JESUS  AND   THE   COMMON  PEOPLE. 

Pay  him,  then,  in  his  own  coin.  Give  him  the 
tribute  Avhich  you  virtually  confess  to  be  his  due, 
when  you  make  the  money  issued  by  his  authority 
your  ordinary  currency." 

John  records,  indeed,  some  discourses  which  to 
an  occidental  mind  seem  less  simple  than  those  in 
the  synoptic  gospels ;  but  I  doubt  whether  they 
were  alien  from  the  oriental  habits  of  thought  and 
speech,  or  were  otherwise  than  clearly  understood 
by  those  famiUar  with  the  Hebrew  literature. 
These  discourses,  too,  always  spring  naturally 
from  the  occasion.  Thus  nothing  can  be  more 
simple  in  its  inception  and  its  whole  train  of 
thought  than  that  discourse  in  which  he  speaks  — 
in  a  series  of  figures  bold  to  a  Western,  but  by  no 
means  strange  to  an  Eastern  audience  —  of  him- 
self as  the  bread  of  life.  A  large  number  of  those 
whom  he  has  fed  in  the  desert  gather  about  him, 
to  see  if  he  will  not  lead  them  in  some  seditious 
movement  (and  Galilee  was  then  full  of  sedition) 
against  the  Roman  government.  He  begins  by 
telling  them  that  they  are  seeking  him,  not  be- 
cause they  have  seen  in  him  the  tokens  of  a 
teacher  sent  from  God,  but  because  he  has  satis- 
fied their  hunger.  "  There  is,"  he  says  to  them, 
"  better  food  than  that  which  nourishes  the  body. 
Su3h  bread  as  I  gave  you  in  the  desert  sustains 
only  a  poor,  frail,  dying  life.     There  is  a  bread 


JESUS  AND   THE   COMMON  PEOPLE.        129 

that  comes  down  from  heaven  and  can  feed  the 
soul ;  and  I  give,  I  am  that  bread."  There  are 
those  present  who  cry  in  genuine  soul-hunger, 
''  Lord,  evermore  give  us  this  bread."  Nor  does 
it  appear  that  any  who  were  present  failed  to  un- 
derstand him.  Those  who  had  come  to  him  with 
low  and  worldly  aims  learn  from  wliat  he  says 
that  he  is  not  the  leader  they  want,  and  they  go 
away,  and  walk  no  more  with  him  ;  but  those  of 
the  common  people  in  whom  he  has  already  awak- 
ened hunger  for  the  bread  from  heaven,  only  cling 
the  more  closely  to  him,  and  it  is  this  very  discourse 
which  calls  forth  from  the  fisherman  Peter,  who 
evidently  had  drunk  in  the  whole  of  it,  the  ardent 
confession,  "  Lord,  to  whom  shall  we  go  ?  Thou 
hast  the  words  of  eternal  life." 

We  can  easily  see  why  the  common  people 
heard  him  gladly,  when,  in  immediate  connection 
with  objects  and  events  perfectly  familiar  to  them, 
he  was  thus  continually  opening  to  them  around 
and  above  their  every-day  life  vistas  of  a  life  pure, 
noble,  glorious,  everlasting. 

The  common  people  heard  him  gladly,  because 
he  spoke  to  them  as  one  who  had  authority,— as  one 
who  knew  what  he  said,  and  who  thus  had  a  right 
to  be  believed.  Reasoning  on  abstract  subjects  is 
not  suited  to  the  common  mind,  nor  is  the  appeal 
to  outside  authorities  well  adapted  to  popular  con- 


130       JESUS  AND   THE   COMMON  PEOPLE. 

viction  or  impression.  When  such  authorities  are 
in  themselves  entirely  valid,  they  are  very  imper- 
fectly appreciated,  and  often  greatly  undervalued, 
by  persons  of  no  more  than  ordinary  discernment 
or  culture.  But  what  one  utters  from  his  own 
manifest  assurance,  from  his  own  evident  con- 
sciousness and  experience,  has  always  a  prepon- 
derant weight.  We  see  this  in  the  rehgious 
teaching  of  our  time,  even  where  speaker  and 
hearers  have  equal  reverence  for  Christ  and  for 
the  Holy  Scriptures.  The  preacher  who  merely 
strings  together  passages  of  Scripture  as  proof- 
texts  for  his  doctrines,  may  have  the  passive 
acquiescence  of  his  hearers,  but  produces  no  im- 
pression, nay,  by  soulless  iteration,  he  weakens  the 
sense  of  divine  realities  in  those  who  feel  their 
sacredness  and  power.  He  only  can  carry  home 
the  truths  of  the  gospel  to  the  hearts  of  his  hear- 
ers, on  whose  own  heart  the3^  are  engraved,  who 
has  tested  them  by  living  them,  to  whom  they 
have  become  intuitions,  to  wdiom  they  would  re- 
main none  the  less  true  were  their  primitive 
record  swept  away,  and  the  holy  name  with 
which  they  are  associated  lost  in  oblivion.  It  is 
thus  that  the  truth  has  been  handed  down  in  its 
freshness,  vividness,  and  power,  as  it  were  in 
proof-impressions  from  the  Saviour's  heart ;  and  in 
this  way  there  is  a  genuine  apostolic  succession, 


JESUS  AND   THE   COMMON  PEOPLE.       131 

transmitted,  not  from  the  fingers'  ends  of  official 
ordainers,  but  from  the  souls  to  which  in  every 
generation  Christ  has  spoken  with  an  authority 
that  has  won  the  allegiance  of  the  understanding 
and  the  conscience,  and  in  speaking  to  them  has 
enabled  them  to  kindle  in  other  souls  a  faith,  trust, 
and  loyalty  like  their  own.  It  is  the  specialty  of 
Christ's  teaching  that  he  does  not  reason,  but  de- 
clares truth  as  from  a  certainty  which  nothing 
could  make  more  .certain,  —  speaks  as  one  who 
knows,  testifies  as  one  who  has  seen,  talks  of  the 
eternal  Father,  as  the  Son  of  Man  consciously 
in  the  bosom  of  the  Father,  —  of  duty  and  right- 
eousness, as  one  who  does  always  the  things  that 
please  God,  —  of  the  everlasting  life  as  of  the  life 
that  he  is  actually  living  on  the  earth.  Such  teach- 
ing seemed  strange  and  schismatic  to  the  Rabbles 
and  those  who  most  frequented  their  schools  ; 
for  their  instructions  consisted  in  the  citing  of 
names  and  traditions,  in  ingenious,  prolix,  and  dis- 
torting commentaries  on  texts  of  the  law,  and  in 
minute  and  hair-splitting  subtleties.  The  common 
people  could  have  found  as  little  pleasure  as  profit 
in  such  diatribes,  and  gladly  resorted  to  one  who 
derived  his  sole  authority  from  God  and  heaven. 

The  common  people  heard  him  gladly.  This  is 
one  of  the  clearest  tokens  of  the  truth  and  of  the 
divinity  of  his  teachings.     The  simplicity  and  fre- 


132       JESUS  AND   TEE   COMMON  PEOPLE. 

queiit  homeliness  of  these  teachings  have  no 
doubt  repelled  some,  who  would  fain  have  had 
from  him  profound  discussions  as  to  the  divine 
nature,  the  ground  of  right,  the  functions  of  con- 
science, the  essence  and  mode  of  the  life  to  come. 
But  such  discussions  Avould  have  been  for  the  few, 
not  for  the  many.  If  a  teacher  came  from  God 
with  a  broad  mission  to  humanity,  his  instructions 
must  of  necessity  have  been  adapted  to  the  com- 
mon people ;  for  they  are  the.  overwhelming  ma- 
jority of  our  race,  and  in  all  ages  they  have  been 
the  overwhelming  majority  of  Christian  believers 
and  workers.  The  common  people  have  always 
found  in  Jesus  the  guidance  in  duty,  the  support 
in  trial,  the  hope  in  death  that  they  have  needed; 
and  what  multitudes  have  there  been  of  them,  who 
have  been  profoundly  wise,  but  only  in  his  wis- 
dom ;  upright,  true,  and  faithful,  but  only  under 
his  leading ;  resigned  and  submissive,  but  only  by 
the  inbreathing  of  his  spirit ;  assured  of  the  eter- 
nal life,  but  only  as  he  has  inspu-ed  their  trust  and 
hope  ! 

The  common  people  heard  him  gladly.  We  are 
all  common  people  as  to  the  ground  covered  by  his 
teachiuG^s.  The  duties  incumbent  on  us  to  God 
and  man  have  in  their  principles,  their  motives, 
their  spirit,  no  diversity  corresponding  to  the  dif- 
ferences  of  condition  and  culture.     You   cannot 


JESUS  AND    THE    COMMON  PEOPLE.       133 

specify  a  primal  obligation  that  admits  of  any  ex- 
ceptions. You  can  name  none  that  belong  to  the 
highly  endowed  and  privileged,  but  not  to  the 
simple  and  unlettered,  —  none  that  appertain  to 
the  lowly,  and  not  to  those  who  hold  a  superior 
position  in  the  social  scale.  The  Sermon  on  the 
Mount  may  all  be  lived  out  by  the  laborer,  the 
poor  widow,  the  person  whose  intelligence  and 
sphere  of  action  are  of  the  very  narrowest ;  and  at 
the  same  time  there  is  no  life  so  large,  so  high,  so 
extended  in  its  relations  and  responsibilities,  that 
it  may  not  find  here  all  that  it  is  bound  to  be  and 
to  do.  Still  more,  we  can  conceive  of  no  broader, 
fuller,  loftier  law  of  duty  for  the  redeemed  in 
heaven,  or  for  any  created  being  in  the  universe. 
As  regards  our  trials  and  our  griefs,  too,  we  are 
all  common  people.  There  is  no  resource  for 
high  or  low,  when  the  heart  is  overwhelmed,  but 
trust  in  Almighty  love,  —  no  prayer  that  can  bring 
an  answer  of  peace,  but  "  Father,  thy  will,  not 
mine,  be  done."  In  the  presence  of  the  mighty 
leveller  Death  we  are  all  common  people.  When 
the  shadow  of  death  seems  near ;  when  the  feet 
of  those  who  have  buried  our  kindred  are  at  our 
own  doors ;  when  we  are  conscious  of  passing 
rapidly  down  the  graveward  declivity,  —  it  is  not 
on  any  self-spun  fabric  that  Our  hopes  depend  : 
we  all  alike,  in  our  conscious  imperfection  and  sin- 


134       JESUS  AND   TEE   COMMON  PEOPLE. 

fulness,  and  with  the  reahn  of  the  unseen  close 
before  us,  look  to  him  who  incarnated  on  earth  the 
forgiveness  of  heaven,  who  uttered  with  authority 
the  words  of  eternal  life,  who  pointed  to  the  ever- 
lasting mansions  in  the  Father's  house,  who  said 
by  the  grave-side,  as  none  other  ever  spake,  "  I 
am  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life  ;  he  that  be- 
lieveth  in  me,  though  he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he 
live ;  and  whosoever  liveth  and  believeth  in  me 
shall  never  die." 


CHRIST'S    TEMPTATION,   ETC.  135 


XI. 


CHRIST'S   TEMPTATION,   CRUCIFIXION,  AND   RESUR- 
RECTION. 

(eASTER    SUNDAY.) 

"  /  have  given  you  an  exam-pie,  that  ye  should  do  as  1  have  done." 
John  xiii.  ]5. 

'TPHE  entire  life  of  Jesus  was  a  fulfilment  of 
these  words.  It  was  his  mission  to  present 
the  divine  character  in  human  form ;  to  show  how 
a  spirit  in  the  image  of  God  would  encounter  the 
burdens,  temptations,  and  trials  of  human  life  ; 
to  illustrate  at  once  the  mode  and  the  issue,  the 
conflict  and  the  triumph.  His  life,  too,  is  one  ;  his 
example,  one,  —  woven  of  the  same  tissue  from  the 
beo'inning:  to  the  end.  His  character  at  each 
marked  epoch  of  his  history  grew  naturally  from 
what  he  had  been  before,  and  determined  what  his 
next  and  all  subsequent  demonstrations  of  charac- 
ter should  be.  Moreover,  his  character  must  be 
copied,  if  at  all,  in  its  entireness.  The  robe  of  his 
righteousness  cannot  be  put  on  in  separate  shreds 
and  patches,  but  must  be  on  the  disciple  as  on 


136  CHRIST'S   TEMPTATION, 

the  Master,  "  without  seam  from  top  to  bottom." 
Many  attempt  to  follow  him  in  part,  but  awk- 
wardly, and  to  little  purpose.  There  are  times 
with  us  all  when  we  would  faiu  follow  him  ;  but 
in  stress  of  need  we  cannot  find  his  footmarks. 
Thus  under  the  pressure  of  calamity  and  bereave- 
ment, who  would  not  gladly  learn  from  him  the 
lesson  of  resignation  and  filial  trust  ?  But  this  is 
fully  given  only  to  those  who  have  first  learned  of 
him  to  serve  and  obey.  Only  those  who  have 
walked  Avith  him  in  sunshine  and  gladness  can 
walk  in  the  light  of  his  countenance  through  the 
valley  of  the  death-shadow. 

For  the  illustration  of  this  thought  I  have  selected 
three  epochs  of  Christ's  life,  —  the  temptation,  the 
crucifixion,  the  resurrection  ;  and  while  exhibiting 
their  importance  as  separate  portions  of  his  exam- 
ple, I  shall  especially  endeavor  to  show  you  their 
mutual  relation  and  interdependence. 

That  the  temptation  was  an  inward  conflict,  not 
an  external  transaction,  is  self-evident.  Even  if 
we  can  imagine  the  arch-fiend  as  endowed  with 
power  over  our  SaviK)ur's  body  to  carry  him  from 
place  to  place,  still  his  presence  in  a  personality 
that  could  be  recognized  would  have  made  the 
temptation  void.  The  narrative  was,  no  doubt, 
the  form  in  which  our  Saviour  rehearsed  to  his 
disciples    his     own    subjective     experiences,     his 


CRUCIFIXION,   AND  RESURRECTION.      137 

spiritual  conflicts  and  triumphs,  during  the  sojourn 
in  the  desert  from  which  he  came  forth  to  his  pub- 
lic ministry. 

The  successive  scenes  of  the  temptation  are  pre- 
cisely those  which  belong  to  opening  life  ;  to  a  pil- 
grimage as  yet  unclouded  by  disappointment  and 
grief ;  to  our  several  life-missions,  no  less  than  to 
the  world-wide  and  world-embracing  mission  on 
which  he  came. 

The  first  of  the  series  was  addressed  to  appetite, 
— ''  Command  that  these  stones  be  made  bread,"  — 
a  suggestion  enforced  by  the  cravings  of  hunger 
and  the  yearning  of  what  seemed  necessity.  Thus 
comes  the  temptation  to  the  young  of  our  day. 
The  appetite  is  intensely  strong,  and  the  earnest- 
ness of  desire  makes  the  indulgence  seem  venial. 
The  purpose  is  not  to  transgress  the  law,  or  to 
degrade  the  soul,  but  merely  to  gratify  a  longing 
which  will  not  otherwise  be  appeased  ;  and  the 
feeling  at  the  moment  is  that  there  cannot  be  any 
great  wrong  in  satisfjnng  an  appetite  that  God  has 
implanted,  even  though  it  be  with  bread  which  he 
not  only  has  not  given  us,  but  has  prohibited  to  us 
under  the  severest  sanctions  and  penalties.  Here 
the  only  power  of  resistance  is  the  sentiment  em- 
bodied in  our  Saviour's  reply,  "  Man  shall  not  live 
by  bread  alone,  but  by  every  word  that  proceedeth 
out  of  the  mouth  of  God  ;  "  or,  rather,  to  reach  the 


138  CHRIST'S   TEMPTATION, 

sense  by  a  paraphrase,  "  Man's  true  life  is  that 
wliicli  is  sustained,  not  by  bread,  but  by  obedience 
to  all  the  commandments  of  God."  No  particular 
indulgence  of  appetite  —  na}^  though  it  were  the 
feeding  of  a  body  ready  to  perish  —  is  necessary  ; 
but  to  the  soul  —  the  seat  of  the  only  life  worth 
living  —  it  is  necessary  to  obey  God  at  all  hazards. 
The  second  temptation  is  that  of  display  and 
notoriety,  —  the  casting  himself  down  from  the 
pinnacle  of  the  temple  in  the  sight  of  the  gazing, 
multitude.  How  exactly  does  this  typify  one  of 
the  strongest  temptations  of  the  young  and  un- 
af&icted  in  our  time !  The  passion  for  display, 
year  by  year,  divides  almost  equally  with  sensual 
appetite  the  fall  and  ruin  of  unnumbered  youth. 
To  shine,  to  dazzle,  to  be  wondered  at,  to  overtop, 
to  outdo,  —  oh  !  for  this  vain  and  frivolous  end 
how  many  and  how  endlessly  diversified  are  the 
shams,  the  deceits,  the  frauds,  the  wrongs,  without 
palliation  and  without  remedy,  that  are  perpetu- 
ally enacted  and  committed !  This  paltr}^  and 
pitiful  ambition  seems  the  incessant  work,  the 
shame  that  is  gloried  in,  with  multitudes  whom 
God  made  for  better  things.  It  spreads  a  snare 
into  which  the  most  ingenuous  are  very  liable  to 
fall,  and  thus  to  become  involved  in  overt  guilt 
before  they  are  fully  aware  of  evil  intent.  With 
not   a   few  it  seems  a  second  nature,  overlaying 


CRUCIFIXION,  AND  BESURRECTION.      139 

and  hideously  deforming  at  every  point  the  nature 
that  God  gave  them.  Its  only  remedy  or  preven- 
tive is  a  profound  feeling  of  the  stringency  and 
sacred ness  of  the  command  quoted  in  the  reply  of 
Jesus,  ''  Thou  shalt  not  tempt  the  Lord  thy  God," 
—  thou  shalt  not  for  thine  own  foolish  ostentation 
or  ambition  trample  on  the  divine  law,  and  dare 
its  certain  and  inevitable  retribution. 

The  third  temptation  comes  a  little  later  in  the 
order  of  time,  but  is  often  stronger  and  more  en- 
during than  either  of  the  others,  —  that  of  worldly 
acquisition,  "all  the  kingdoms  of  the  world,  and 
the  glory  of  them."  As  in  our  age,  and  especially 
in  our  country,  wealth  is  the  surest  token  and  the 
most  efficient  instrument  of  power,  worldliness 
shows  itself  in  the  greed  of  gain  fully  as  often 
as  in  the  love  of  place  and  office,  —  the  aim  in 
both  cases  being  substantially  the  same.  How 
many  there  are  whom  we  see  absolutely  worship- 
ping Satan,  and  grovelling  in  the  dust  and  mire  at 
liis  feet,  to  get  as  much  of  this  world  as  they  can ! 
There  is  no  degradation  to  which  they  will  not 
stoop,  no  sacrifice  of  self-respect  too  great,  no 
subterfuge  too  mean,  no  mole-path  too  tortuous  or 
slimy,  for  this  one  end  of  lucre.  It  is  "  the 
abomination  of  desolation  standing  where  it  ought 
not,"  in  the  very  sanctuary,  and  receiving  the 
most  devoted  service  of  body,  niind,  and  soul  from 


140  CHRIST'S   TEMPTATION, 

many  who  deem  themselves  pillars  of  the  Churcli 
of  Christ.  No  other  passion  so  completely  sucks 
into  its  vortex  every  faculty,  power,  and  affection, 
or  so  entirely  excludes  from  thought  the  nobler 
themes  that  belong  to  an  immortal  nature.  Here 
the  only  possible  antidote  is  that  conveyed  in  our 
Saviour's  reply,  ''  Thou  shalt  worship  the  Lord 
thy  God,  and  him  alone  shalt  thou  serve."  A 
supreme  and  soul-filling  object  is  needed  to  cast 
forth  and  to  keep  out  that  which  is  also  supreme 
and  soul-filling.  God  and  Mammon  least  of  all 
can  be  served  together.  Each  will  have  the  whole 
man,  or  no  part  of  him.  Neither  can  be  served 
except  with  mind,  soul,  and  strength. 

"  It  is  written,"  was  a  part  of  our  Saviour's  re- 
ply in  each  instance,  —  written  by  the  finger 
which  never  erases  what  it  once  writes,  written 
in  the  same  character  with  the  times  and  courses 
of  the  stars,  —  absolute  and  eternal  truth  and  law, 
which  will  not  bend  to  the  appetite,  ambition,  or 
cupidity  of  any  individual  subject  of  temptation, 
but  to  which  one  must  yield,  or  suffer  the  pen- 
alty. It  is  the  idea,  thus  expressed  by  Jesus,  of 
certainty,  immovableness,  inevitableness  in  law, 
wliich  we  most  of  all  need  when  we  are  strongly 
tempted.  The  vague  idea  of  the  tempted  is  that 
the  law  can  be  tampered  with  more  easily  than  the 
wrong  desire  can  be  suppressed, — in  fine,  that  the 


CRUCIFIXION,   AND  RESURRECTION.      141 

law,  tliougli  absolute  in  its  terms,  will  be  somebow 
evaded  or  suspended  in  their  case.  Hence  the 
momentous  importance  and  worth  of  an  authori- 
tative "  It  is  written,^'  —  of  a  writing  on  the  page 
of  revelation,  which  shall  be  regarded  as  but  a 
transcript  from  the  constitution  and  fundamental 
law  of  the  universe,  and  which  can  no  more  be 
blotted  out,  or  made  void  in  a  single  instance,,  than 
can  the  laws  of  gravitation  or  of  planetary  motion. 

These  temptations  which  appertain  to  early  and 
unstricken  life,  Jesus  encountered  and  vanquished 
at  the  outset  of  his  career ;  and  the  result  was 
precisely  what  the  3'oung  are  prone  to  dread  as 
w^orse  than  death,  —  a  life  of  self-denial,  lowli- 
ness, and  penury,  —  all  which  he  might  so  easily 
have  shunned.  The  bread  that  could  grow  under 
his  hand  was  for  famishing  multitudes,  while  he 
hungered ;  for  the  admiring  crowds  who  would 
have  swelled  his  train,  had  he  catered  for  their 
admiration,  were  the  captious  Scribes,  the  carp- 
ing Pharisees,  the  supercilious  Sadducees,  then  the 
mob  that  shouted  "Crucify  him,"  and  the  imbruted 
populace  that  hissed  their  blasphemies  and  curses 
into  his  dying  ears ;  and  for  "  the  kingdoms  of 
the  world  and  the  glory  of  them  "  he  had  posses- 
sion of  the  robes  he  wore,  and  a  license  of  sepul- 
ture in  a  rich  man's  tomb. 

But   the    end   is   not   yet.     Were   this   all,  his 


142  CHRIST'S   temptation; 


clioice  in  the  temptation  could  not  be  justified ; 
for  it  determined  the  whole  destiny  of  his  life,  and 
was  the  immediate  cause  of  all  that  he  endured, 
so  that  from  the  moment  when  he  emerged  from 
the  desert  he  moved  on  under  the  ever-deepening 
shadow  of  poverty,  grief,  and  death.  The  young 
and  unaftlicted  shrink  from  the  slightest  disap- 
pointment, delay,  depression,  or  loss,  and  feel  as  if 
the  mere  ideal  phantasm  of  duty  were  not  worth 
the  surrender  of  any  earthly  good  or  joy;  while 
he  accounted  it  worthy  of  lifelong  and  entire  self- 
sacrifice. 

The  crucifixion  was  the  inevitable  issue  of  the 
temptation,  the  choice  which  he  then  deliberately 
made  ;  and  as  we  have  seen  in  him  the  only  safe 
example  for  those  exposed  to  the  perils  of  opening 
life,  so  we  now  behold  in  him  equally  our  j^erfect 
pattern  of  submissive  endurance  under  the  se- 
verest afflictions  that  can  enter  into  the  lot  of 
humanity.  Bereavement,  if  not  by  death,  yet 
worse,  by  desertion,  denial,  and  treachery  ;  scorn, 
contumely,  and  insult,  such  as  can  never  have  been 
exceeded  in  atrocity  and  virulence  ;  protracted 
bodily  torture  ;  every  possible  inducing  cause  of 
mental  agony,  —  threatened  with  growing  cer- 
tainty and  severity  throughout  his  public  ministry, 
are  now  heaped  together  on  Calvary,  as  if  the 
windows   of    heaven   had   been   opened    and   the 


CRUCIFIXION,  AND  RESURRECTION.     143 

fountains  of  the  great  deep  broken  up,  to  whelm 
with  their  blended  flood  the  Man  of  Sorrows. 
Under  this  stress  of  calamity  and  suffering,  that 
sacred  heart  is  laid  open  to  us ;  we  can  hear  its 
throbs  and  count  its  pulses.  The  veil  is  thrown 
back  from  the  hour  of  woe  and  triumph  in 
Gethsemane  ;  that  divine  soul  shines  forth  in  all 
its  loveliness  and  glory  on  the  cross.  As  in  the  con- 
flict with  evil  the  Father's  will  had  been  appealed 
to,  so  now  is  it  made  the  refuge  and  consolation 
in  pain  and  anguish  unspeakable.  "  Not  my  will, 
but  thine  be  done."  '^  Father,  into  thy  hands  I 
commend  my  spirit."  The  same  trust  in  Almighty 
Wisdom  and  Love  as  in  the  temptation,  only 
varied  in  form  to  suit  the  new  exigency.  Then 
it  was  obedience  to  a  righteous  law ;  now,  sub- 
mission to  a  righteous  providence.  Then  it  was 
the  panoply  of  an  active  warfare ;  now,  the  de- 
fensive armor  of  perfect  proof  from  which  the 
arrows  of  affliction  fall  back  blunted  and  pow- 
erless. It  is  an  example  that  comes  home  to  our 
experiences  and  needs,  and  presents  our  only 
support  and  solace  in  grief.  To  feel  that  the 
sorrow  might  have  been  heavier,  to  look  forward 
to  better  days  to  come,  or  to  brace  the  soul  up  by 
the  mere  inevitableness  of  wdiat  we  are  suffer- 
ing,—  these,  and  all  other  resources  of  an  earth- 
born  philosophy,  may  impart  a  certain  power  of 


144  CHRIST 8   TEMPTATION', 

brave  endurance,  but  can  give  no  more  than  the 
momentary  relief  which  a  sick  man  gets  by  a 
change  of  posture  without  a  diminution  of  pain. 
We  need,  like  our  Master,  to  look  the  trial  or  the 
grief  full  in  the  face,  to  know  and  feel  the  very 
worst  that  it  is,  or  means,  or  threatens,  and  then 
to  say  in  our  hearts,  '*  Father,  this  is  thy  work, 
and  it  must  be  my  blessedness ;  this  cup  is  of  thy 
mingling,  and  it  must  be  for  my  health  and  my 
enduring  good.  Thy  will,  not  mine,  be  done." 
Sorrow  may,  indeed,  wear  itself  out,  as  disease 
sometimes  does,  yet  not  until  it  has  left  deep  traces 
of  itself  in  the  soul's  whole  being,  and  impaired 
for  all  coming  time  its  capacity  both  for  effort 
and  for  enjoyment.  But  the  only  present  and 
effectual  remedy  is  this  that  is  presented  to  us  by 
our  Saviour's  example,  —  submission,  not  as  to 
unavoidable  evil,  but  as  to  the  merciful  will  of  the 
Father  of  infinite  love. 

Here  let  us  mark  well  the  connection  between 
the  temptation  and  the  crucifixion.  It  was  the 
obedience  of  the  former  season  that  was  repro- 
duced in  the  submission  of  the  latter.  It  was 
because  the  thouc^ht  of  the  Father  had  been  con- 
stantly  present  in  duty,  that  it  merged  all  other 
thoughts  in  trial.  The  consciousness  implied  in 
the  words,  "  Father,  I  have  finished  the  work  that 
thou  gavest  me  to  do,"  was  precisely  the  same 


CRVCIFIXION,   AND  RESURRECTION.      145 

that  breathed  in  that  trusting  prayer  in  the  gar- 
den, in  those  last  words  of  self-commitment  on 
the  cross. 

But  "to  what  purpose,"  it  might  have  been 
asked  by  some  who  stood  by  the  cross, —  per- 
haps it  was  thus  that  the  two  disciples  were 
talking  on  the  way  to  Emmaus,  —  "to  what  pur- 
pose is  this  example  of  a  life  wasted,  thrown 
away  ?  A  little  yielding  might  have  been  to  him 
an  infinite  gain.  Let  him  at  the  outset  have  had 
a  wiser  reference  to  his  own  interest;  let  him 
have  offered  some  harmless  concessions  to  the 
popular  tastes  and  prejudices ;  let  him  have  made 
a  little  more  show ;  let  him  have  stepped  aside 
once  in  a  while,  instead  of  marching  straight  on  in 
the  very  face  and  eyes  of  what  he  deemed  wrong 
and  evil,  —  he  might  have  gained  a  name  and 
influence, — he  might  have  been  efficient  as  a  re- 
former, —  he  might  have  raised  up  a  powerful 
sect,  even  among  the  very  rulers  and  the  Phari- 
sees, —  he  might  have  lived  to  see  his  cause 
triumphant,  and  have  passed  away  in  old  age 
with  universal  reverence  and  honor.  But  now  all 
that  has  come  of  his  uncompromising  resistance 
and  his  meek  endurance  is  the  utter  failure  of  his 
plans,  the  almost  universal  hostility  of  the  nation, 
a  hard  lot,  a  barbarous  doom,  a  felon's  death." 
This  was  sound  reasoning  while  he  lay  in  the 
7  J 


146  CHBISrS   TEMPTATION, 

sepulchre,  and,  did  our  hopes  terminate  with  the 
grave,  we  might  fitly  reason  thus,  and  should 
find  ourselves  absolved  from  all  the  more  arduous 
demands  of  duty,  from  all  sacrifice  and  self- 
denial. 

But  "now  hath  Christ  risen  from  the  dead;" 
and  in  no  respect  is  his  resurrection  of  more  worth 
than  as  putting  the  crown  on  the  example  o£  his 
life,  —  demonstrating  its  divine  excellence,  and 
the  entire  safety  of  following  it.  If  death  ends 
all  things,  then  we  must  judge  of  every  course  of 
action  by  its  issues  on  this  side  of  death.  But  if 
death  is  not  a  terminus ;  if  the  life  that  seems  to 
expire  is  to  come  up  again ;  if  the  current  of 
moral  causation  flows  on  under  the  channel  of  the 
death-river,  to  reappear  on  the  opposite  bank,  — 
then  we  must  lengthen  our  view  ;  we  must  see 
what  results  in  the  unseen  future  are  to  flow  from 
this  or  that  course  of  action. 

When  the  powers  of  darkness  have  hunted  our 
Saviour  to  his  destruction,  and  laid  him  low  in  the 
dust  of  the  earth,  they  certainly  appear  his  supe- 
riors, and  evil  has  for  the  time  the  upper  hand. 
But  hovf  is  all  this  changed,  when  like  the  mid- 
summer sun  on  the  verge  of  the  Arctic  circle,  he 
just  dips  below  the  horizon,  and,  behold  1  from  the 
twilight  of  his  setting  bursts  the  glorious  dawn 
of   his  resurrection-day !      Now  is   raised  a   new 


CRUCIFIXION,   AND  RESURBECTION.      147 

issue.  It  apj)ears  that  the  power  of  life  and  death 
is  not  in  the  hands  of  moral  evil  or  its  abettors  ; 
that  they  cannot  kill ;  that  virtue,  integrity,  piety, 
lives  on  unharmed  in  death,  as  asbestos  in  fire ; 
and  that  it  makes  no  manner  of  difference  whether 
in  any  particular  instance  the  right  seem  to  suc- 
ceed or  not  in  this  world,  so  long  as  it  is  sure  of 
success  and  triumph  in  the  resurrection-life. 

The  resurrection  of  Jesus,  considered  in  this 
aspect,  is  of  immense  practical  value,  and  not  only 
so  in  times  of  persecution  unto  death  for  con- 
science' and  goodness'  sake,  but  even  in  quiet 
times,  for  you  and  me.  Let  it  once  be  established 
that  the  peril  of  death  is  not  to  be  encountered, 
and  irremediable  evil  not  to  be  incurred  in  re- 
sistance to  temptation  and  the  discharge  of  duty, 
the  way  is  open  for  evading  the  next  severest 
peril  or  trial,  and  then  the  next,  till  we  should  at 
length  rest  on  the  simple  ground  that  the  question 
of  duty  is  always  to  be  considered  with  reference 
to  consequences,  and  that  the  right  is  never  to  be 
pursued  except  when  we  see  that  it  is  perfectly 
safe.  But  Christ's  resurrection,  by  sweeping  death 
out  of  the  way,  and  making  it  of  no  account  where 
duty  is  concerned,  has  much  more  swept  the  path 
clear  of  all  other  obstacles,  and  left  for  the  only 
question  to  him  w^ho  believes  in  a  risen  Redeemer, 
What  would  God  have  me  do,  or  bear  ? 


148  CHRIST'S  TEMPTATION,  ETC. 

Here,  it  seems  to  me,  we  may  understand  what 
Paul  means  by  the  power  of  Christ's  resurrec- 
tion. Thus  considered,  it  is  a  moral  force  of  the 
intensest  momentum  and  efficacy.  It  thus  wrought 
upon  the  apostles,  who,  no  doubt  because  it  was 
with  them  a  working  force,  always  refer  to  it  as 
the  prime  fact  in  the  entire  history  of  their  Lord. 
Oh,  that  we  might  feel  this  power  !  The  voice  that 
should  come  to  us  from  the  broken  sepulchre  is, 
Child  of  God,  disciple  of  Christ,  one  thing  alone 
concerns  thee,  —  to  know  the  will  of  thy  Father. 
This  known,  pursue  it  without  misgiving.  Confer 
not  with  flesh  and  blood.  Ask  not  whether  it 
will  bring  a  present  revenue,  or  whether  it  in- 
volves inconvenience,  loss,  sacrifice,  but  only,  Is  it 
my  duty?  Is  it  God's  command  to  me?  If  it 
be,  it  will  prevail  and  prosper,  —  perhaps  not  in 
this  life,  —  perhaps  the  earthly  consequence  of 
thy  doing,  as  of  thy  Master's,  must  be  to  thy  loss 
and  harm.  So  be  it  then.  It  is  only  a  question 
of  time,  of  a  few  days  more  or  less ;  for  the  resur- 
rection-hour is  at  hand,  and  then  only  the  true 
and  the  good  shall  triumph.  The  upright  shall 
have  dominion  in  the  morning ;  God  shall  redeem 
their  souls  from  the  power  of  the  grave. 


A  BOOB  IN  HEAVEN.  149 


xn. 

A   DOOR   IN   HEAVEN. 

(ascension-DAT.) 

"I  looked,  and  beJiold,  a  door  was  opened  in  heaven." — Rev.  iv.  1. 

T3  Y  the  event  which  we  commemorate  to-day  a 
"^  door  was  opened,  and  remained  thence  on- 
ward open,  in  heaven.  To  Jews  and  Gentiles  alike, 
death  had  before  been  a  passage  into  a  dreary  un- 
derworld, and  the  only  immortality  believed  in  was  a 
gloomy,  subterranean  life,  hardly  preferable  to  non- 
existence. Even  the  Elysian  fields  were  sunless 
and  joyless.  The  figment  of  their  existence  seems 
to  have  been  but  a  clumsy  endeavor  to  stave  off 
the  dread  of  annihilation.  Better  did  it  seem  to 
wander  as  unembodied  spirits  in  the  region  of  eter- 
nal shadows  and  ever-brooding  darkness,  than  not 
to  be.  Christ  has  lifted  the  thoughts  of  men  from 
the  underworld  to  the  Father's  house  on  high,  — 
has  associated  the  immortal  life  with  the  glory  of 
the  firmament,  with  all  that  is  bright  and  beautiful 
in  nature,  with  all  in  our  hearts  that  is  asphing  and 
upward  tending. 


150  A  DOOR  IN  HEAVEN. 

The  door  is  open ;  but  we  are  slow  to  look  in. 
We,  with  few  exceptions,  believe  ourselves  immor- 
tal, but  take  very  imperfect  note  of  the  contents 
of  our  belief.  Let  us  now  obey  the  voice  addressed 
to  us  no  less  than  to  the  writer  of  the  Apocalypse, 
"  Come  up  hither,  and  I  will  show  thee  things 
which  must  be  hereafter." 

The  foremost  and  the  most  solemn  thought  con- 
nected with  the  future  life  is  that  it  is  we,  our  very 
selves,  that  are  to  enter  it.  It  is  a  common  belief, 
though  perhaps  seldom  expressed  in  words,  that 
there  are  to  be  changelings  in  the  heavenly  birth,  — 
that  the  persons  who  die  are  not  going  to  heaven, 
but  that  certain  pure,  angelic  beings  will  be  cre- 
ated, to  bear  their  names  and  fill  their  places  in  the 
society  of  the  blessed.  That  reckless  sensualist 
cannot  surely  suppose  that  he,  as  he  is,  will  be 
associated  with  adoring  spirits  in  praise  to  God  and 
homage  to  the  Saviour.  It  is  the  last  thing  that 
he  could  wish  or  crave.  A  day  so  spent  would  be 
beyond  his  endurance.  His  first  walk  in  the  golden 
streets  would  make  him  long  for  his  wonted  joys, 
as  did  the  ransomed  Israelites  for  the  flesh-pots  of 
Egypt.  That  insatiable  accumulator  of  lucre,  whose 
only  standard  for  right  and  duty,  taste  and  senti- 
ment, is  the  money-scales,  cannot  possibly  expect 
in  his  own  person  to  enter  the  heavenly  life.  It 
would  make  him  more  wretched  than  he  can  be  in 


A  DOOR  IN  HEAVEN,  151 

this  world.  Here  his  ruling  aim  is  his  resource  and 
comfort  in  every  trial  and  grief ;  and  if  streams  of 
wealth  will  only  set  in  his  direction,  he  cares  little 
how  events  may  shape  themselves.  What  treasure 
can  he  have  laid  up  in  the  Saviour's  kingdom? 
That  sluggish  half-Christian,  who  is  afraid  of  noth- 
ing so  much  as  of  following  Christ  closely  enough 
to  part  company  with  those  who  care  nothing  at  all 
for  Christ,  surely  does  not  expect,  in  his  own  proper 
selfhood,  to  enter  the  home  of  the  redeemed ;  for  he 
has  many  habits  of  thought  and  feeling  which  he 
knows  would  be  out  of  place  there,  and  his  whole 
devotional  tone  is  so  languid  and  low  that  he  could 
neither  feel  nor  find  sympathy  among  the  adoring 
spirits  before  the  eternal  throne. 

I  say  nothing  of  reward  or  punishment.  I  know 
not  if  there  be  any,  in  the  sense  of  arbitrar}^  con- 
ferment or  infliction.  But  I  do  know  that  neither 
reason  nor  Scripture  makes  the  death-flood  a  font 
for  baptismal  regeneration,  —  that  if  we  are  to  be 
immortal,  it  is  our  actual  selves  that  are  to  live  for 
ever ;  and  that  we  are  often  tempted  to  make  of 
ourselves  such  beings  as  we  would  not  wish,  but 
should  utterly  loathe  to  be,  for  ever. 

Let  it  be  borne  in  mind  that,  if  we  are  to  live 
after  death,  it  cannot  be,  as  here,  under  cover. 
Here  we  are  known  by  bodily  form  and  feature ; 
beneath  the  veil  of  the  flesh  much  of  our  actual 


152  A  DOOR  IN  HEAVEN. 

character  is  liiclden ;  and  while  some  neither  wish 
nor  need  disguise,  and  are  not  unwilling  to  speak 
and  act  outwardly  the  whole  inward  life,  whether 
for  good  or  for  evil,  there  are  others  who  are  willing 
to  mask  under  a  fair  exterior  thoughts,  passions, 
and  affections,  of  which  the  enforced  avowal  would 
whelm  them  with  shame.  When  the  body  falls 
away,  and  the  walls  that  here  shut  in  the  soul  are 
trodden  down  in  the  dust  of  the  grave,  character 
must  be  what  form  and  feature  are  now.  In  the 
destruction  of  what  was  outward,  that  which  was 
within  must  become  outward,  manifest,  open  to  all 
beholders ;  and  if  there  be  that  within  us  which 
for  very  shame  we  would  not  reveal  on  earth,  we 
may  well  tremble  lest  it  cannot  be  hidden  in  the 
spiritual  realm  toward  which  our  rapid  steps  are 
tending,  —  lest  it  there  be  known  and  read  of  all 
without  our  ability  to  conceal  it,  —  lest  it  place  us 
in  just  that  attitude  before  and  among  our  fellow 
spirits  which  we  would  not  for  worlds  hold  with 
our  fellow-men  here. 

Mark:  I  am  offering  you  no  man-made  dogma, 
no  private  interpretation  of  my  own ;  I  am  simply 
showing  you  the  contents  of  the  belief  in  immor- 
tality which  most  or  all  of  you  profess.  The 
necessary  inference  from  this  behef  is,  that  it  be- 
hooves us  all  to  be  in  heart  and  character  what  we 
are  willing  to  be  and  to  appear  when  we  wake  from 


A  DOOR  IN  HEAVEN,  153 

the  death-slumber.  We  may  be  that  now  which 
we  would  be  utterly  unwilling  to  be  then.  We 
can  be  that  now  which  we  should  rejoice  with  joy 
unspeakable  to  be  then.  Guileless,  faithful,  gen- 
erous, devout,  Christ-like,  we  would  crave  to  be, 
when  no  fleshly  veil  shall  intervene  between  the 
ever  open  eye  of  God  and  the  undying  conscience 
which  must  lie  naked  and  open  before  him.  If 
you  who  live  wholly  for  the  pleasure,  gain,  or  suc- 
cess of  the  passing  day,  and  are  conscious  of  no 
loftier  aim,  will  only  analyze  your  own  idea  of 
immortality,  you  cannot  remain  contented  as  you 
are,  —  you  cannot  but  live  as  children  of  the  resur- 
rection, and  the  pursuits  which  must  be  broken 
short  off  by  death  will  seem  to  you  beneath  con- 
tempt, compared  with  that  pursuit  of  knowledge, 
virtue,  and  piety,  which  may  be  continued  all 
along  the  glorious  way  on  which  the  redeemed 
walk  with  songs  and  everlasting  joy.  You,  too, 
•who  are  endeavoring  to  follow  Christ,  need, 
amidst  the  distractions  of  a  busy  and  often  care- 
cumbered  life,  the  restraining,  directing,  hallowing 
power  that  lies  in  the  sense  of  your  continuous 
identity  as  you  pass  through  the  death-shadow. 
When  you  wake  beyond  it,  you  would  fain  ap- 
pear "  without  fault  before  the  throne  of  God." 
You  would  crave  to  be  found  in  full  unity  of 
spirit  with  your  Saviour  and  his  ransomed,  to 
.7* 


154  A  DOOR  IN  HEAVEN. 

take  up  without  halting  the  onward  march,  to 
sustain  without  drooping  or  discord  the  redemp- 
tion-song, of  those  who  have  gone  before  you. 
Think,  then,  what  manner  of  persons  you  must  be 
here,  —  how  severe  in  your  self-discipHne,  how 
broad  in  your  charity,  how  fervent  in  j'our  piety, 
how  unworldly  in  motive,  desire,  and  love. 

I  dwell  with  a  prolonged  and  reiterated  empha- 
sis on  this  thought,  because,  wliile  it  has  been 
sadly  overlooked  in  the  technical  preaching  of 
retribution,  it  comprehends  all  in  retribution  that 
is  most  fearful,  all  that  is  most  glad  and  glorious. 
Could  I  only  say  to  my  own  soul,  daily  and 
hourly,  "As  I  live  and  die  here,  I  must  resume 
my  being  in  the  life  to  come,  —  the  forces  of 
character  which  govern  me  here  must  start  me  on 
my  eternal  career,"  —  I  could  need  no  other,  I 
could  have  no  so  efficient  impulse  in  every  walk 
of  duty,  in  every  way  of  the  divine  service. 
Could  I  but  make  you  all  feel  what  you  profess 
to  believe,  that,  as  you  live  and  die,  you  are  to 
live  again,  I  hardly  need  preach  any  thing  else^  — 
the  powers  of  the  world  to  come  would  take  such 
fast  hold  upon  you,  that  they  would  mould  your 
spirits  and  shape  your  lives  in  close  and  ever 
closer  conformity  to  the  spirit  and  hfe  of  the  all- 
perfect  Saviour. 

Another  glimpse  which  we  get  through  the  door 


A   DOOR  IN  HEAVEN,  155 

opened  in  heaven  is  of  the  interviews  and  reunions 
in  reserve  for  us  in  the  spiritual  world.  How  ap- 
palling, how  unspeakably  joyful,  must  they  be  ! 
What  black  shadows,  what  glorious  lights  do  they 
reflect  on  our  mutual  influence  here  !  What  reck- 
lessness is  perpetually  manifested  in  every  form  of 
evil  agency !  The  sensualist  corrupts  and  crushes 
his  victim,  and  still  maintains  an  unblushing  front, 
remains  unstung  by  remorse,  feels  as  if  his  crime 
had  no  future,  and  could  be  fully  expiated  by  his 
ceasing  from  atrocious  guilt  as  temptation  slack- 
ens. He  who  lays  the  snare  and  fijls  the  death- 
cup  for  his  brethren,  and  whose  gain  is  the  ruin 
of  body  and  soul,  quietly  casts  the  responsibility 
on  those  who  are  weak  enough  to  pay  him  the 
wages  of  their  folly,  and  even  takes  credit  to  him- 
self for  a  sobriety  which  enables  him  year  after 
year  to  slay  and  divide  the  spoil,  and  so  to  roll 
his  guilt  up  mountain-high.  The  man  whose  posi- 
tion gives  intense  power  to  his  example,  becomes 
the  evil  teacher  and  the  betrayer  of  a  multitude 
around  him,  and  feels  no  compunction,  though  in 
full  view  of  the  mischief  he  has  wrought.  But  if 
there  be  a  life  immortal,  there  must  of  necessity 
be  a  rem^brance  and  recognition  of  earthly  con- 
nections and  experiences,  a  renewal  of  earthly 
society,  with  a  clear  and  keen  view  of  the  current 
and  the  consequences  of  mutual  influence.     We 


156  A  DOOR  IN  HEAVEN. 

cannot  but  picture  to  ourselves  the  meeting  of  the 
seducer  and  his  victim,  the  betrayer  and  the  be- 
trayed, the  Mammon-driven  caterer  and  the  man- 
acled and  fettered  slave  of  appetite,  the  teacher 
and  the  learner  of  every  doctrine  of  devils,  the 
man  of  corrupt  and  pestilential  example  and  those 
infected  by  his  guilt.  Oh  that  this  prospect  might 
be  seared  into  the  souls  that  are  preparing  to  real- 
ize it ! 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  there  is  in  these  in- 
terviews, these  reunions,  beyond  the  shadovr  of 
death,  an  incentive  of  transcendent  efficacy  to 
every  form  of  social  duty,  of  beneficent  influence, 
of  charity  for  the  bodies  and  the  souls  of  men. 
How  often  are  we  disheartened,  as  we  feel  that  in 
benevolent  effort  we  are  casting  our  seed-corn  on 
the  waters,  and  can  never  know  in  this  world 
whether  it  germinates  and  ripens  for  the  heavenly 
harvest !  In  heaven  we  shall  know  our  own 
sheaves ;  and  Ave  believe  that  no  one  can  go  forth 
bearing  precious  seed,  Avho  will  not  find  that  he 
has  a  share  in  the  ingathering.  How  precious  be- 
yond estimate  is  the  thought  that  there  may  be 
souls  bound  to  us  by  ties  of  eternal  benefit, — 
children  of  our  faith,  though  not  of  our  blood,  — 
brethren  of  our  adoption,  though  not  of  our  house- 
holds,—  those  whom  our  counsel  has  guided,  our 
.entreaty   restrained,    our    instruction    brought  to 


A   DOOR   IN  HEAVEN.  157 

Jesus,  —  those  who  Avill  say  to  us  in  heaven,  "You 
helped  us  thither ;  but  for  you  we  might  have  per- 
ished by  the  way  "  !  Christians,  who  are  laboring 
in  your  Master's  vineyard,  let  this  hope  sustain 
you  in  every  worthy  effort  for  the  souls  for  which 
God  will  not  let  you  live  in  vain.  Be  contented, 
though  the  harvest  spring  not  up  at  once  in  your 
sight.  Believe  that  there  will  be  glorious  revela- 
tions in  the  communings  of  your  heavenly  home, 
which  will  show  that  your  labor  of  faith  and  love 
has  not  passed  away  unrecognized  by  the  Author 
and  Giver  of  every  good  gift. 

Yet  another  prospect  offers  itself  through  the 
open  door.  Who  of  us  is  there  that  has  not  some 
of  his  dearest  friends  in  heaven  ?  There  are 
parents  whose  prayers  for  us  anticipated  the 
dawn  of  reason ;  there  are  brothers  and  sisters 
called  from  our  sides  in  the  bloom  of  their  beau- 
tiful promise  ;  there  are  the  lambs  taken  from  our 
folds  for  the  altar-service  in  the  upper  temple. 
There  are  for  some  of  us  more  in  heaven  of  the 
innocent  and  holy  that  were  very  near  our  hearts, 
than  yet  remain  for  our  earthly  solace  and  happi- 
ness. We  hope  to  renew  their  sweet  society, — 
to  enjoy  their  undying  sympathy  and  love.  When 
we  think  of  heaven,  next  to,  or  rather  inseparably 
blended  with,  our  near  communion  with  our  God 
and  our  Saviour,  comes  the  thought  of  these  sus- 


158  A  DOOR  IN  HEAVEN, 

pended  ties  of  eartlily  kindred  and  affection. 
Should  they  not  be  pledges  for  our  fidelity  and 
earnestness,  bonds  of  our  allegiance,  attractive 
forces  drawing  all  our  steps  heavenward  ?  We 
would  not  be  separated  from  them.  We  would 
crave  that  the  household,  dissolved  by  death,  may 
by  death  be  reunited.  Shall  we  not,  then,  pursue 
with  cheerful  zeal,  on  this  side  of  the  veil,  the 
path  on  which  they  are  moving  onward  and  up- 
ward in  the  unveiled  light  of  heaven  ?  Oh,  if  we 
loved  them ;  if  we  still  love  them ;  if  then-  forms 
often  recur  to  our  saddened  thoughts  by  day ;  if  in 
the  visions  of  the  night  they  seem  to  us  white- 
robed  angels,  urging  our  laggard  steps ;  if  our 
hearts  tell  us  that  our  love  for  them  was  not  born 
to  die,  —  let  their  memory  be  a  quickening  power 
for  every  holy  thought  and  worthy  endeavor,  — 
let  their  voices 

"  Reprove  each  dull  delay, 
Allure  to  brighter  worlds,  aud  lead  the  way." 

Such  are  some  of  the  contents,  the  necessary 
elements,  of  the  immortality  which  we  believe  and 
crave.  Such  are  some  of  the  views  through  the 
door  opened  and  left  open  in  heaven  by  the 
ascending  Redeemer.  How  suggestive  of  these 
thousi-hts  are  the  recorded  incidents  of  that  sublime 
scene !     He  rose  to  heaven  in  the  self-same  form 


A  DOOR  IN  HEAVEN.  159 

in  which  he  had  given  his  last  mandates  and  his 
farewell  blessing,  the  form  in  which  he  died  ;  and 
as  we  live  and  die,  so  shall  we  rise  to  the  more 
intimate  jjresence  of  God.  He  went  to  receive 
the  kingdom  purchased  by  his  toil,  agon}',  and 
blood ;  and  Ave  shall,  in  like  manner,  go  to  the 
fruit  of  our  deeds,  the  fruition  of  our  works,  the 
results  of  our  example  and  influence.  He  parted 
from  his  disciples  with  the  assurance,  "  Where  I 
am,  there  shall  ye  be  also ;  "  and  we,  too,  shall 
pass  hence,  to  renew  the  bonds  of  earthly  kindred 
and  love,  to  be  gathered  to  those  who  have  gone 
before  us,  to  be  followed  by  those  we  leave. 

Let  our  grateful  thoughts  revert  to  that  bright 
morning,  v/hen  the  shout  arose  in  heaven,  "  Lift 
up  your  heads,  O  ye  gates,  and  be  ye  lifted  up, 
ye  everlasting  doors,  and  the  King  of  glory  shall 
come  in."  The  shining  path  on  which  he  went 
home  to  God  is  our  appointed  way.  The  voice 
that  lingered  on  the  ears  of  the  eleven  as  he  was 
parted  from  them  says  ever  to  us,  "  Come  up 
hither."  Let  our  faith,  our  hope,  our  endeavor, 
press  on  toward  the  open  door,  where  his  welcome 
awaits  us. 


160  IDENTITY  OF  THE  EARTHLY 


XIII. 

IDENTITY  OF  THE  EARTHLY  AND   THE   HEAVENLY 
LIFE. 

"Thy  brother  shall  rise  again." — John  xi.  23. 

"  nPHY  brotlier,"  —  the  very  being  that  had  died, 
—  the  same  in  mind,  sentiment,  and  feel- 
ing, in  sympathy  and  love.  This  is  the  Christian 
idea  of  immortality,  —  an  idea,  not  indeed  dogmat- 
ically enunciated,  but  implied  in  all  that  Christ 
and  his  apostles  say  about  the  higher  life,  and 
especially  in  his  own  resurrection,  unchanged  in 
character,  which  he  and  they  represent  as  typical 
of  the  resurrection  of  all  men. 

On  other  occasions  I  have  spoken  of  the  identity 
of  the  risen  with  the  dying  man  as  the  most  potent 
of  all  dissuasives  from  evil,  and  of  all  motives  to 
the  development  of  the  highest  type  of  character. 
There  is  another  aspect  in  which  I  would  now  pre- 
sent it.  I  think  that  to  many  sincere  Christians 
the  heavenly  life  is  less  attractive  than  it  ought  to 
be.  They  delight  in  the  exercises  of  devotion ; 
but  there  are  other  loves  and  pursuits,  consistent 


AND   THE  HEAVENLY  LIFE,  161 

with  piety,  nay,  even  cherished  by  it,  which  con- 
tribute so  largely  to  the  dignity  and  the  enjoy- 
ment of  the  present  life  that  the}^  can  ill  brook  the 
prospect  of  yielding  them  up  for  ever,  yet  which 
they  have  never  been  wont  to  regard  as  forming 
equally  a  part  of  the  heavenly  life.  They  forget 
what  is  clearly  symbolized  by  the  tree  of  life  bear- 
ing twelve  manner  of  fruit,  and  yielding  its  fruit 
every  month,  —  the  boundless  diversity  of  pursuits 
for  which  heaven  may,  and  undoubtedly  will,  afford 
unrestricted  scope  and  opportunity. 

Among  these  I  will  first  specify  the  pursuit  of 
knowledge.  Can  you  believe  the  student's,  the 
scholar's,  the  inquirer's  aim  and  endeavor  earth- 
bounded  ?  To  the  devout  mind  knowledge  is  the 
nurse  of  piety,  the  tracing  of  the  embodied  thought 
of  the  Infinite  Intelligence,  the  identification  of  the 
divine  attributes  in  the  universe.  Why  should  any 
department  of  this  research  be  closed  by  the  open- 
ing of  the  soul's  prison-gates,  —  by  the  downfall 
of  those  walls  of  sense  which  only  circumscribe 
thought  and  imagination?  So  far  from  this,  it 
would  seem  so  intrinsically  probable  as  hardly  to 
admit  of  doubt,  that  the  direction  which  the  mind 
has  assumed  and  pursued  with  steadfastness  in  the 
obscurity  and  with  the  distractions  of  this  world, 
will  determine  its  favorite  course  where  for  dark- 
ness there  shall  be  light  and  for  hinderances  helps. 


162  IDENTITY  OF  THE  EARTHLY 

There  the  introspective  philosopher  may  learn  in 
his  clarified  consciousness  and  his  beatific  experi- 
ence the  powers  and  the  limitations  of  the  finite 
mind,  its  laws  and  its  methods,  its  relations  to 
nature,  to  fellow-beings,  and  to  its  Author.  There 
the  student  of  the  works  of  God  may  take  the 
wings  of  the  morning,  may  trace  omnipresent  law 
from  bound  to  bound  of  the  universe,  or,  with 
microscopic  keenness  of  vision,  may  follow  out  the 
same  omnipresent  law  in  those  minutest  forms  in 
which  Infinite  Wisdom  has  globed  itself  no  less 
than  in  world,  sun,  and  system.  There  he  who  has 
loved  to  explore  Providence  in  history  may  have 
spread  before  him  records  of  the  Omnipotent  Prov- 
idence in  realms  of  being  infinite  to  the  finite,  finite 
onl}^  to  the  Infinite  Intelligence. 

What  a  contrast  between  the  two  states  !  Here 
our  ignorance  grows  upon  our  consciousness  faster 
than  our  knowledge.  In  every  field  of  research  we 
reach  impassable  barriers,  where  we  set  up  fence- 
^vords,  general  terms  (so  called),  which  are  indefin- 
able, are  but  names  for  our  nescience,  and  denote 
that  with  our  present  implements  of  investigation 
we  can  go  no  farther.  "  Lo  !  these  are  a  part  of 
his  ways,  but  how  little  a  portion  is  known  of  him ! " 
is  ever  the  humiliating  confession  of  true  science, 
wdiich,  therefore,  with  instinctive  modesty,  calls 
itself  philosophy,  not  wisdom,  —  the  loving  quest, 


AND   THE  HEAVENLY  LIFE.  163 

not  the  realized  attainment.  There  philosophy 
will  ripen  into  wisdom.  In  our  ever  more  intimate 
conversance  with  the  Supreme  Intelligence  we 
shall  gain  ever  profounder  and  broader  views  of 
his  works  and  his  providence  ;  the  very  faculties 
employed  in  i)raise  and  adoration  will  be  avenues 
of  knowledge ;  while  increasing  knowledge  will 
cherish  ever  more  glowing  worship  and  more  fer- 
vent gratitude. 

I  love,  also,  to  think  of  our  sesthetic  natures, 
our  sensibility  to  beaut}^  alike  in  the  outward  uni- 
verse and  in  art,  as  not  earth-limited,  but  as  born 
and  cherished  within  us  for  heaven  and  for  eter- 
nity. All  true  art  is  God-breathed.  No  attribute 
of  the  Creator  is  more  richly  manifested  than  his 
love  of  beauty.  In  him  reside  the  archetypes  of  all 
the  forms  which  it  is  our  joy  to  behold,  —  of  all  the 
harmonies  which  float  in  upon  the  soul,  whether 
from  trumpet,  harp,  and  organ,  from  human  voice, 
or  from  the  minstrelsy  of  field  and  forest.  For  all 
refined  and  elevated  tastes  he  has  furnished  nutri- 
ment with  the  same  open  hand  with  which  he 
lavishes  his  bounty  for  the  supply  of  our  lower 
needs.  In  sunset  clouds,  in  verdure  and  bloom,  in 
the  kaleidoscopic  landscape  of  the  autumn  forest, 
in  sheets  and  mounds  of  driven  snow  and  all  the 
hoary  majesty  of  winter,  his  beauty-breathing  spirit 
is  ever  drawing  near  to  our  souls,  and  awakening 


164  IDENTITY  OF  THE  EARTHLY 

those  sentiments  which,  even  in  the  undevout,  are 
almost  Avorship,  and  to  the  heart  that  rejoices  in 
his  love  are  an  unceasing  incense,  ritual,  and  an- 
them of  praise. 

We  trace  God  none  the  less  in  the  beauty  that 
flows  from  human  hands.  Man,  in  the  pride  of  his 
art,  is  the  copyist,  not  the  creator,  and  least  crea- 
tive in  the  zenith  of  his  power.  When  I  have 
looked  on  the  pictures  in  which  human  genius 
appears  most  divine,  I  have  felt  the  glory  of  man 
less  than  of  God.  I  have  recognized  inspiration  as 
clearly  as  in  the  God-breathed  written  word.  I 
know  that  the  forms  and  colors  that  thus  grew 
under  men's  fingers  were  drawn  from  models  fash- 
ioned by  a  higher  than  human  art.  Now,  if  I  can 
be  both  glad  and  worshipful  in  presence  of  these 
copies,  how  can  I  suppose  myself  in  the  better 
life  of  my  faith  and  hope  insensible  to  their  arche- 
types ?  Rather,  is  not  the  capacity  of  a  joy  so 
pure  and  lofty  awakened  in  us  here,  because  there 
is  infinite  scope  and  food  for  it  in  every  portion  of 
that  universe,  in  one  of  whose  outlying  provinces 
we  are  cradled,  to  become  in  the  maturity  of  the 
resurrection-life  free  of  all  its  realms  ?  Thus  I 
must  believe ;  and  when  the  author  of  the  Apoc- 
alypse lays  all  of  nature  that  we  now  behold  under 
contribution,  and  piles  splendor  upon  splendor  to 
shadow  forth  the  glories  of  the  new  Jerusalem,  I 


AND   THE  HEAVENLY  LIFE.  165 

know  that  the  very  power  of  painting  those  gor- 
geous forms  and  tints  on  the  retina  of  my  inward 
vision  is  an  authentic  prophecy  of  more  of  beauty 
in  heaven  than  eye  has  yet  seen,  or  ear  heard,  or 
heart  conceived. 

I  would  next  speak  of  our  capacity  for  friend- 
ship and  affection  as  in  no  sense  earth-limited,  but  as 
an  undoubted  prerogative  of  the  resurrection-life. 
Certain  it  is  that  this  capacity  far  transcends  its 
earthly  uses,  —  far  exceeds  our  power  of  enjoying 
it  and  profiting  by  it  here.  I  speak  not  now  of  our 
nearer  loves,  of  our  home-unions.  I  trust,  indeed, 
that  none  who  believe  in  immortality  doubt  that 
death  will  reunite  parted  families,  and  that  those 
who  have  dwelt  under  the  same  roof  on  earth  are 
invited  to  become  tenants  of  the  same  mansion  in 
heaven.  But  I  refer  now  to  a  larger  circle.  The 
most  tender  home-love,  so  far  from  circumscribing, 
only  enlarges  and  intensifies,  the  power  of  loving ; 
and  most  of  all  do  those  whose  hearts  are  filled 
with  the  love  of  God  have  hospitable  heart-room 
for  "  troops  of  friends."  With  this  proclivity  to 
form  strong  attachments,  we  are  saddened,  as  we 
pass  on  in  life,  not  only  by  the  death-thinned  ranks 
of  our  friends,  by  the  strange  faces  in  homes  where 
we  were  made  welcome,  but  hardly  less  by  the 
multitudes  of  the  living  who  win  our  dear  regard, 
and  then  pass  out  of  our  sight ;  of  tenderly  cher- 


166  IDENTITY  OF  THE  EARTHLY 

islied  frienrls,  who  are  seldom  within  our  reach ; 
nay,  of  those  near  us,  whom  we  never  meet  with- 
out a  glow  of  warm  affection,  yet  of  whose  society 
our  care-cumberecl  lives  yield  us  but  a  rare  and 
fragmentary  enjoyment,  which  leaves  us  hungry, 
not  satisfied.  Friends  of  our  travels ;  friends  in 
distant  cities  and  lands ;  friends  in  whom  we  have 
rejoiced,  but  on  whom  our  eyes  will  never  look 
again  in  this  world, — how  numerous  are  they  I 
There  is  not  one  of  them,  on  whose  special  claims 
to  our  dear  remembrance  our  thoughts  do  not 
delight  to  linger.  Oh,  why  are  we  made  capable 
of  loves  so  strong  and  so  enduring  in  our  hearts, 
yet  so  evanescent  in  our  enjoyment  of  them? 
There  are  few  features  of  our  earthly  life  that 
seem  in  themselves  so  lamentable  as  this.  For  my 
own  part,  I  would  rather  never  make  a  new  friend, 
than  have  so  little  revenue  from  the  greater  num- 
ber of  my  friends  as  can  accrue  to  me  in  this 
world. 

But  I  rejoice  to  read  in  this  very  susceptibility 
to  friendship,  in  this  power  and  tendency  to  mul- 
tiply the  bonds  of  spiritual  kindred  and  affinity, 
the  assurance  that  we  are  laying  up  treasures  for 
our  heavenly  life,  providing  friends  that  shall  be 
ours  for  ever.  There  will  be  in  heaven  time  enough 
and  room  enough  for  all ;  and  who  can  say  how 
essential  to  the  intimate  union  of  souls  beyond  the 


AND   THE  HEAVENLY  LIFE,  167 

reach  of  change  and  sorrow  may  be  common  re- 
membrances of  this  our  birth-world,  with  its  vicissi- 
tudes, griefs,  and  separations  ?  We  all  knoAv  that 
it  is  precisely  the  portions  of  our  experience  which 
have  the  least  of  the  stability  and  repose  of  heaven 
that  most  endear  us  to  one  another  here.  Let  us 
feel,  then,  that  we  lose  nothing  and  risk  nothing  by 
these  attachments  that  seem  so  brief  and  fruitless ; 
and  whenever  the  thought  of  some  dear  friend  long 
unseen,  and  perhaps  never  to  be  seen  again  upon 
earth,  comes  over  us  with  almost  painful  vividness, 
let  it  be  as  a  breath  on  the  wind-harp  of  prophecy, 
—  let  fond  memor}^  merge  itself  in  hope,  —  let  our 
hearts  turn  for  their  satisfaction  to  that  home 
where,  within 

"  Bright  gates  inscribed,  No  more  to  part, 
Soul  springs  to  soul,  and  heart  unites  to  heart." 

Such  are  some  of  the  gladdening  inferences  from' 
the  identity  of  man  dying  and  risen,  —  of  the  soul 
on  earth  and  in  heaven. 

Think  not  that  I  have  lost  sight  of  him  whose 
words  gave  the  text  for  my  discourse.  So  far  from 
it,  I  have  only  been  exploring  with  you  provinces 
of  the  heavenly  inheritance  assured  to  us  by  him 
alone.  I  cannot  forget  that  it  is  only  under  Chris- 
tian auspices  that  immortality,  reasoned  about  and 
speculated  upon  in  other  quarters,  has  been  the 


168  EARTHLY  AND  HEAVENLY  LIFE. 

object  of  imdoul)tmg  expectation.  At  fhe  base 
of  Christ's  broken  sepulchre  is  planted  the  ladder 
from  earth  to  heaven,  on  which  we  mount  with 
firm  and  steady  tread,  on  whose  very  uppermost 
rungs  we  find  solid  foothold,  and  from  which  we 
can  survey  at  leisure  the  home  that  shall  be  ours, 
map  out  in  legitimate  imaginings  our  several  plots 
in  the  garden  of  the  Lord,  behold  the  rays  that 
gleam  from  the  golden  walls  and  the  jasper  throne,^ 
and  catch  the  ever-recurring  burden  of  the  song 
of  the  ransomed  host,  "  Worthy  is  the  Lamb  that 
was  slain  to  receive  power,  and  riches,  and  wis- 
dom, and  strength,  and  honor,  and  glory,  and 
blessing.'* 


THE  LORD'S  SUFFER.  169 


XIY. 

THE   LORD'S   SUPPER. 
"This  do  in  remembrance  of  me."  —  Luke  xxii.  19. 

'THHE  holy  table  is  spread.  A  large  proportion 
of  those  urged  to  attend  the  service  by  every 
consideration  of  gratitude  have  retired ;  and  for  the 
full  congregation  we  have  a  diminished  assembly, 
scattered  here  and  there,  or  clustered  in  close  vicin- 
ity to  the  sacred  emblems.  These  who  remain  are 
not  insincere.  Many  of  them  are  tenderly  devout, 
and  find  the  season  one  of  profound  feeling.  But 
with  others,  is  it  too  much  to  say  that  the  service 
is  a  conscientiously  observed  formalism?  "  Jesus," 
they  say  to  themselves,  "  was  the  greatest  bene- 
factor of  the  human  race,  and  it  is  no  more  than 
fitting  thus  to  commemorate  him  in  accordance 
with  his  request  on  the  eve  of  his  death."  But 
they,  though  persons  of  excellent  character,  are 
not  sensitive  as  to  character,  or  supremely  solici- 
tous for  its  growth.  They  rather  feel  as  if  they 
bad  reached  a  safe  spiritual  resting-place,  whence 
temptation  will  not  dislodge  them,  and  whence,  in 
8 


170  THE  LORD'S   SUPPER. 

due  time  and  in  the  natural  course  of  events,  they 
will  be  translated  to  the  church  in  heaven.  They 
are  not  active  in  religious  charities,  nor  expansive 
in  their  sympathies,  nor  disposed  to  be  tolerant 
of  those  out  of  the  pale  of  respectable  goodness. 
They  would  not,  indeed,  borrow  for  their  altar- 
service  the  words  which  Jesus  puts  into  the  mouth 
of  the  Pharisee  in  the  temple,  "  God,  I  thank  thee 
that  I  am  not  as  other  men ;  '*  for  precisely  these 
words  rest  under  the  Saviour's  ban :  yet  in  their 
hearts  they  think  that  the  Pharisee  was  more  than 
half  right.  They  have  more  of  self-complacency 
than  of  self-distrust, — more  of  contentment  than 
of  aspiration.  There  is  a  large  alloy  of  selfishness 
in  such  devotional  feeling  as  they  possess ;  and 
now,  at  the  table  of  commemoration,  each  brings 
his  own  little  gill-cup,  and  expects  that  the  water 
from  the  well  of  salvation  will  flow  into  it  for  his 
own  drinking  ;  Avhile  he  never  thinks  of  proffering 
a  draught  for  his  soul-thirsty  neighbor. 

No  wonder  is  it  that  to  those  who  come  thus  to 
the  table  of  communion  the  service  seems  cold  and 
dry ;  that  by  no  process  of  self-excitation  can  they 
lash  themselves  into  fervor  ;  and  that  they  create 
a  bleak,  chilly  atmosphere  for  those  of  warmer 
hearts.  Not  even  a  drop  trickles  into  their  little 
cups,  though  for  the  whole  hour  the  burden  of  ex- 
hortation and  prayer  be,  "  Spring  up,  O  well !  " 


THE  LORD'S   SUPPER.  171 

Sucli  persons  are  prone  to  find  fault  with  the 
mode  of  administration.  "  If  we  could  only  kneel 
instead  of  sitting;  or  go  to  the  table  instead  of 
having  the  sacred  emblems  brought  to  us;  or  if 
the  conGfreg-ation  were  not  dismissed  before  the 
communion ;  or  if  we  celebrated  it  at  a  different 
time  from  the  stated  season  for  public  worship,  — 
we  might  have  the  vivid  feeling  which  now  we 
cannot  conjure  up."  But  they  are  mistaken.  A 
different  mode  of  administration  might  for  two  or 
three  times  awaken  some  semblance,  or  rather  car- 
icature of  life,  as  a  galvanic  battery  will  for  a  brief 
season  renew  muscular  motion  in  a  corpse.  But 
in  a  little  while  death,  in  the  former  as  in  the  latter 
case,  would  resume  all  its  rights. 

The  form  is  of  no  vital  significance.  There  is 
no  mode  of  administration  under  which  there  has 
not  been  icy  coldness ;  none,  under  which  hearts 
have  not  glowed  and  burned  as  the  Saviour  became 
more  intimately  known  to  them  in  the  breaking 
of  bread.  Our  method  presents  some  grounds  of 
preference,  —  in  part,  because  it  is  so  flexible,  —  in 
part,  too,  because  it  has  the  prestige  of  venerable 
antiquity ;  for  in  the  earliest  Christian  times  the 
disciples  sat  at  the  communion,  as  we  do,  and  the 
minister  used  no  prescribed  form,  except  as  he 
rehearsed  our  Saviour's  words  at  the  institution  of 
the  Supper,  but  in  exhortation  and  prayer  followed 


172  THE  LORD'S  SUPPER. 

the  promptings  of  the  spirit  at  the  time.  Kneeling 
iit  the  communion  is  not  in  itself  objectionable; 
but  it  is  of  later  date.  It  began  when  the  eucharist 
from  a  holy  supper  became  a  sacrifice,  and  the  con- 
secrated emblems,  from  symbols  of  the  Lord's  body 
and  blood,  came  to  be  regarded  as  a  host  (hostid)^ 
that  is,  a  victim,  by  the  imagined  transformation 
under  the  priest's  hands  of  bread  and  wine  into 
flesh  and  blood.  But,  as  I  have  said,  the  mode  is 
of  secondary  concern.  It  is  the  spirit  that  gives 
life  to  any  and  every  form  ;  and  if  our  form  is  cold 
and  dead,  it  is  because  we  bring  to  it  hearts  that 
are  cold  and  dead. 

My  fi'iends,  I  have  made  a  strong  statement,  — 
for  us,  I  would  fain  believe,  over-strong  ;  for  as  we 
meet  here,  I  cannot  but  feel  that  there  is  among 
us  some  hopeful  glow  of  the  altar-flame  that  should 
be  kindled  in  our  hearts.  But  so  far  as,  here  or 
elsewhere,  there  is  a  sense  of  the  lifelessness  and 
inadequacy  of  this  service,  it  is  due  to  the  preva- 
lence in  a  greater  or  less  degree  of  the  spiritual 
condition  which  I  have  described.  We  may  vitalize 
our  service.  We  may  make  it  the  centre,  the  in- 
spirer,  the  feeder  of  the  best  that  there  is  or  can 
be  in  us  ;  and  so  far  as  we  do  this,  we  shall  diffuse 
all  that  we  feel,  shall  multiply  the  living  gospels 
that  we  are,  shall  draw  into  our  circle  many  who 
now  contentedly  remain  outside  of  it,  and  shall  be, 


THE  LORD'S   SUPPER,  173 

as  all  true  disciples  ought  to  be,  propagandists,  — 
by  example  and  influence,  if  not  ia  word,  preach- 
ers of  Christ  and  his  religion.  Let  us,  then,  con- 
sider some  of  the  elements  of  thought  and  feeling 
which  we  should  especially  bring  to  the  holy  table, 
and  cherish  by  this  service. 

Our  first  thought  here  is  gratitude,  not  to  the 
benefactor  of  the  race,  but  to  your  and  my  best 
.friend,  —  to  him  to  whom  our  individual  indebted- 
ness is  no  less  than  if  any  one  of  us  were  the  sole 
recipient  of  his  benefactions.  We  stand  in  awe- 
stricken  admiration  by  the  sea-side,  as  the  sun  rises 
in  golden  radiance  from  the  ocean ;  or  on  the  hill- 
top, as  he  sinks  among  clouds,  glorious  as  if  they 
floated  in  from  the  very  presence-chamber  of  the 
Creator.  But  in  the  noonday  light,  all-revealing, 
all-penetrating,  reflected  upon  us  from  unnumbered 
objects  of  use  and  beauty,  we  think  but  httle  of  its 
source.  So  is  it  in  our  high  noon  of  Christian 
privilege.  The  light  which,  had  we  lived  when 
the  Sun  of  Righteousness  first  rose,  we  should 
have  traced  to  him  alone,  is  reflected  upon  us  from 
home,  from  societ}^,  from  literature,  from  every 
department  of  life,  from  numerous  examples  of 
excellence  on  record,  or  within  our  circle  of  famil- 
iar knowledge  ;  and  we  are  constantly  in  danger 
of  forgetting  whence  it  comes.  But  at  the  holy 
table,  above  all,  should  our  thoughts  be  fixed  on 


174  TEE  LORD'S   SUPPER. 

liim  through  whom  every  good  gift  of  God  has 
been  either  bestowed,  or  adapted  to  our  use,  or 
rendered  immeasurably  more  precious.  There  is 
not  an  ascription  of  praise  for  any  blessing  apper- 
taining to  our  earthly  life  or  our  immortal  being 
that  should  not  here  be  centred  in  Christ,  and 
flow  to  God  through  him.  Only  let  us  feel  this, 
as  we  can  verify  and  must  believe  it,  —  there  need 
be  no  forcing  up  of  grateful  thoughts  ;  our  thanks 
will  flow  too  full  and  strong  for  utterance,  and  the 
feeble  words  of  our  praise  will  be  but  the  symbol 
and  token  of  emotions  that  far  transcend  their 
utmost  meaning. 

But  this  is  not  all.  We  profess  here  to  enter 
into  communion  with  the  personal  Christ.  He 
stands  before  us  in  peerless  loveliness  and  beauty, 
—  the  ideal  of  humanity  actualized ;  all  of  the 
divine  that  can  irradiate  the  frail  fleshly  taberna- 
cle,—  the  model  which  we  may  be  always  copying, 
and  still  find  more  to  copy,  —  all  virtues,  all  graces, 
all  seeming  contrasts  of  goodness  blended,  —  the 
strength  and  glory  of  perfect  manhood,  the  gentle- 
ness and  tenderness  of  perfect  womanhood,  —  the 
majesty  of  heaven,  the  little  amenities  and  waj'side 
charities  that  adorn  and  bless  the  humble  inter- 
course and  sheltered  walk  of  common  earthly  life. 
What  is  communion  but  self-comparison?  And 
what  is  the  comparison  of  self  with  him  but  the 


THE  LORD'S  SUPPER.  175 

revealing  of  deficiencies  to  be  supplied,  of  traits  of 
his  spirit  too  faintly  transcribed  in  our  own,  of 
features  of  his  character  that  need  to  be  more 
fully  manifested  in  our  lives?  Let,  then,  his  piety 
inflame  the  languor  of  oars.  Let  his  unworldli- 
ness  put  to  shame  our  engrossment  in  things  out- 
ward and  transient.  Let  his  diligence  stimulate 
our  active  powers.  Let  his  serenit}''  rebuke  our 
peevishness  or  irritability.  Let  his  career  of  self- 
denial  and  sacrifice  cry  reproach  upon  our  selfish- 
ness. Let  his  loving  spirit  chase  all  bitterness 
from  our  hearts.  Let  there  be  here  a  faitliful  self- 
searching  and  trial  of  ourselves  as  before  his  solemn 
judgment-seat ;  and  be  it  our  aim  and  endeavor 
now  and  always  to  carry  hence  views  of  his  char- 
acter that  shall  make  our  own  more  like  his,  influ- 
ences of  his  spirit  that  shall  mould  ours  more 
entirely  after  his  pattern.  Thus  shall  we  feel  and 
manifest  a  growth  in  grace.  Ours  will  no  longer 
be  a  merely  negative  goodness  ;  but  there  will  be 
traits  of  Christlikeness  that  shall  proclaim  us  of  his 
lineage  and  kindred.  Moreover,  though  we  seek 
not  human  praise,  we  thus  shall  have  just  cause  of 
rejoicing  in  the  added  ascription  of  praise  and  glory 
to  Christ  through  us,  which  must  ensue,  if  it  be 
seen  that  our  communion  with  him  is  not  a  mere 
traditionary  rite,  but  a  transforming  power.  Were 
this  witnessed  generally  in  the  professed  disciples 


176  THE  LOBD'S  SUPPER. 

of  Christ;  were  there,  not  mere  abstinence  from 
evil,  but  a  radiating  beauty  of  holiness  in  the  lives 
of  those  who  meet  at  his  table,  —  we  should  no 
longer  mourn  the  vacant  seats,  the  few  accessions 
to  our  fellowship.  Those  who  aspire  after  goodness 
would  seek  their  nourishment  here ;  those  who 
thirst  for  what  the  world  cannot  give  would  resort 
hither  for  the  living  water  that  ever  flows  from  the 
fountain  opened  on  Calvary. 

But  there  is  yet  more.  The  church  has  become 
too  much  like  a  close  corporation,  rejoicing  in  its 
privileges,  but  chary  of  them  and  slow  to  impart 
them.  There  is  no  greater  outrage  to  the  spirit  of 
Christ  than  the  seeming  divorce  of  philanthropy 
and  the  church,  —  seeming,  I  say,  not  real ;  for 
the  philanthropy  outside  of  the  church  has  all  been 
born  and  nurtured  within  it,  and  grows  acid,  or 
bitter,  or  truculent,  as  soon  as  it  turns  its  back  on 
its  rightful  home.  The  great  philanthropic  associ- 
ations of  Christendom  are,  spiritually  speaking, 
nuisances ;  yet  they  are  necessary  evils,  which 
have  sprung  up,  because  the  church,  as  such,  had 
ceased  to  do  its  own  proper  work,  —  because  the 
communion-table  had  ceased  to  be  the  bureau  of 
Christian  charity.  If  the  church  better  understood 
itself,  its  mission,  and  its  Master,  the  enterprises  for 
the  deliverance  of  men  from  sin  and  misery,  instead 
of  beins:  thrust  out  of  what  is  and  ever  will  be 


THE  LORD'S   SUPPER.  177 

their  only  birthplace,  —  instead  of  being  managed 
by  exterior  agencies,  public  demonstrations,  and 
windy  platform  oratory,  would  be  taken  right  into 
the  heart  of  the  communion-circle,  counselled  for 
and  prayed  for  before  the  emblems  of  the  redemp- 
tion-sacrifice, urged  by  motives  drawn  from  the 
Saviour's  dying  and  undjdng  love,  energized  by 
the  spirit  of  his  cross,  proclaimed  by  his  ministers 
as  the  crusade  in  which  every  disciple  must  bear 
arms,  so  long  as  there  are  the  wretched,  the  suffer- 
ing, and  the  sinning  within  the  reach  of  charity.  It 
was  thus  with  the  primitive  church.  Contributions 
were  then  taken  up  at  the  communion-service,  not 
only  for  immediate  charities,  but  for  the  relief  of 
those  even  of  other  tongues  and  in  distant  lands 
who  were  suffering  in  the  common  cause ;  while 
from  the  then  plentifully  furnished  table  generous 
portions  were  carried  by  the  deacons  to  the  homes 
of  those  absent  by  reason  of  infirmity,  and  espe- 
cially of  the  poor. 

I  can  conceive  of  no  cause  appertaining  to  man's 
well-being,  which  ought  not  to  be  precious  enough 
to  a  Christian's  heart  to  be  worthy  of  a  place  in 
those  holiest  thoughts  and  most  fervent  pra3^ers 
which  cluster  around  this  service  ;  while  nothing 
can  bring  us  so  near  the  Saviour's  heart  as  blend- 
ing counsels  and  plans  of  Christian  work  for  our 
brethren  with  our  solemn  commemoration  of  the 
8*  L 


178  THE  LORD'S   SUPPER. 

love  stronger  than  death,  which  bowed  his  head 
and  opened  the  fountain  of  his  blood.  Every 
Christian  is,  so  far  as  he  is  a  Christian,  a  philan- 
thropist,—  a  helper,  to  the  measure  of  his  opportu- 
nity, in  that  work  of  saving  and  blessing  man  in 
body  and  soul,  in  which  Christ  wrought  till  the 
gates  of  heaven  opened  for  him,  and  which  at  the 
very  moment  of  his  ascension  he  left  in  charge  to 
his  disciples. 

Innovation  in  exterior  forms  is  difficult  and  un- 
desirable, when  not  spontaneous  ;  for  when  the 
spirit  outgrows  a  form,  it  will  of  its  own  motion 
enlarge  it,  or  replace  it  by  a  better.  But  I  would 
that  we  should  do  all  that  we  can  to  bring  back 
this  loving  spirit  into  our  communion-service.  Let 
us  here  offer  prayer  and  thanksgiving  as  heartily 
for  others  as  for  ourselves.  Let  us  bring  emphati- 
cally before  our  thoughts  the  all-embracing  love  of 
the  Saviour,  and  seek  in  this  service  to  cherish  a 
love  like  his.  Let  us  recall  here  what  we  have 
done  and  consider  what  we  are  doing,  as  trustees 
of  his  parting  charge.  Let  us  call  to  mind  the 
specific  work  around  and  before  us,  and  hallow  it 
and  ourselves  for  it  by  the  devotions  of  this  sacred 
hour.  Let  our  altar-service  always  send  us  forth 
with  new  zeal,  patience,  and  hopefulness,  for  our 
several  departments  of  service  in  the  vineyard  of 
our  Lord. 


THE  LORD'S  SUPPER.  179 

Gratitude,  self-searcliing,  brotherly  love,  —  these 
should  be  blended  in  our  communion-service,  and 
with  these  the  service  will  be,  not  a  form,  but  a 
power.  Let  each  of  us  make  our  gathering  here, 
not  an  hour  of  mildl}^  grateful  repose  in  a  sacred 
place,  but  a  season  of  the  warmest  thanksgiving  it 
is  in  his  heart  to  offer,  of  the  most  faithful  dealing 
with  his  own  spirit  in  the  full  light  of  the  Saviour's 
example,  and  of  vows  and  plans  of  usefulness  in 
which  he  will  follow  his  Master  as  he  went  about 
doing  good.  If  we  will  thus  keep  the  feast,  I  know 
that  it  will  from  month  to  month  be  more  and 
more  precious  to  us,  and  that  through  what  it  does 
for  us  it  will  be  more  and  more  honored,  rever- 
enced, and  observed  by  those  whom  we  would  so 
gladly  welcome  to  our  household  of  faith. 


180         WORTH  OF  OUR  RESPONSIBILITIES. 


XV, 

THE   WORTH  OF  OUR  RESPONSIBILITIES. 

*'  Well,  thou  good   servant :   because  thou  hast  been  faithful  in  a  very 
little,  have  thou  authority  aver  ten  cities."  —  Luke  xix.  17. 

OOCIETY,  in  a  healthy  state,  rewards  its  best 
servants  by  giving  them  more  to  do.  We, 
indeed,  in  this  country,  are  largely  trying  the  op- 
posite method,  making  inexperience  a  preferred 
qualification  for  office,  and  often  placing  a  man  in 
higher  because  he  has  failed  in  lower  trusts.  But 
this  is  the  most  perilous  of  all  the  follies  of  Young 
America,  and,  if  it  lasts,  the  republic  cannot  last. 
The  normal  treatment  of  faithful  servants  is  to  put 
them  to  ever  more  arduous  service,  and  this,  so 
long  as  the  powers  of  body  and  mind  remain  in 
w^orking  order. 

But  widely  different  notions  of  the  reward  of 
the  faithful  in  heaven  have  somehow  obtained  ex- 
tensive currency.  How  often  is  the  heavenly  life 
spoken  of  as  pre-eminently  a  state  of  repose,  an 
eternal  rest  I  —  pure  and  devout,  indeed,  pervaded 
by  the  spirit  of  perpetual  worship,  yet  monotonous 


WORTH  OF  OUR  RESPONSIBILITIES.        181 

and  inactive.  This  idea  predominates  in  the  mort- 
uary inscriptions  in  the  Roman  catacombs  and  in 
those  preserved  in  the  Vatican,  in  which  In  pace 
(at  peace)  occurs,  I  think,  oftener  than  any  othei 
motto.  Such  thoughts  of  death  and  heaven  re- 
ceived, undoubtedly,  their  first  intense  stress  in  the 
persecutions  to  which  the  primitive  Christians  were 
subjected,  when  there  was  very  little  that  they 
could  do,  while  their  capacity  of  endurance  was 
strained  to  the  last  degree,  and  their  first  restful 
moment  often  was  that  of  the  death-slumber.  The 
tradition  of  those  times  has  been  transmitted  to 
our  own,  and  a  blessed  and  holy  tradition  it  is  as  to 
the  sufferings,  troubles,  and  sorrows  of  this  mortal 
life.  It  has  its  due  place  in  the  symbolism  of  the 
New  Testament,  especially  in  the  Apocalypse, 
which  was  probably  written  during  the  persecu- 
tion under  Domitian,  and  when  the  author  him- 
self was  leading  a  life  of  banishment,  during  which 
he  was  precluded  from  all  opportunities  of  active 
service  in  the  cause  of  his  Master.  But  this  idea 
is  so  far  from  being  the  foremost  Christian  rep- 
resentation of  heaven,  that  it  is  not  in  a  single 
instance  alluded  to  by  our  Saviour.  On  the  other 
hand,  larger  trusts,  higher  activities,  more  ex- 
tended responsibilities,  constitute  the  habitual  and 
favorite  element  in  the  glimpses  of  the  heavenly 
life  which  he  gives  us.     In  the  parable  from  which 


182        WORTH  OF  OUR  RESPONSIBILITIES. ' 

I  have  taken  my  text,  the  government  of  ten  cities 
—  no  easy  task  and  burden  —  is  the  reward  of  him 
who  has  made  his  one  pound  ten.  In  the  parable 
of  the  talents,  to  him  who  has  made  the  five  tal- 
ents ten,  it  is  said,  not,  "  Enter  into  the  rest  that 
thou  hast  earned,"  but,  "  Thou  hast  been  faithful 
over  a  few  things;  I  will  make  thee  ruler  over  many 
things."  Thus,  too,  it  is  promised  to  the  apostles, 
for  their  having  forsaken  all  to  follow  Christ,  that 
they  shall  judge  or  rule  the  twelve  tribes  of  Israel, 
that  is,  of  the  Christian  Israel,  the  spiritual  king- 
dom of  their  Lord. 

Is  it  asked.  How  can  this  be  ?  What  work,  what 
trust,  what  charge  can  the  heavenly  life  offer  to 
those  who  are  found  worthy  of  it  ?  I  would  answer 
that,  if  this  life  be,  as  we  are  prone  to  deem  it,  a 
training-school  for  heaven,  there  must  be  work  in 
heaven.  In  nothing  is  Christian  principle  more 
efficient  than  in  developing  working  power.  The 
world's  greatest  workers  have  been  the  elect  among 
its  saints,  and,  conversely,  the  most  eminent  saints, 
with  rare  exceptions,  have  been  among  the  great- 
est workers.  Then,  again,  how  know  we  that  in 
the  essential  principles  of  its  economy  the  future 
life  will  differ  from  the  present  ?  Here  the  Divine 
Providence  is,  throughout,  a  system  of  agencies. 
All  that  God  does  for  man  he  does  by  man  ;  and 
no  other  gift  of  his  is  so  blessed,  so  worthy  our  pro- 


.       WORTH  OF  OUR  RESPONSIBILITIES.       183 

foundest  gratitude,  as  the  capacity  of  giving, — 
the  power  of  counsel,  influence,  beneficence.  In 
heaven,  if  there  are  gifts,  why  not  givers  also  ?  If 
there  are  sources  of  happiness,  Avhy  not  those 
through  whom  they  flow  ?  If  there  is  a  benignant 
ministry  from  heaven  to  earth,  why  may  not  its 
method  be  symbolized  by  the  ladder  of  the  patri- 
arch's vision,  with  the  ascending  and  descending 
angels  —  earth-born  angels,  all  of  them  —  laden 
with  needs  and  supplications  from  below,  with 
blessings  from  on  high  ?  We  know  not,  indeed  ; 
but  Avhen  we  consider  that  all  beneficent  agency 
is,  in  its  last  analysis,  from  soul  to  soul,  we  cannot 
conceive  that  such  agency  is  restricted  by  a  condi- 
tion of  being  more  intimately  spiritual. 

But  it  is  not  my  purpose  now  to  dwell  on 
these  mysteries  of  the  higher  life  Avhich  are 
beyond  our  scope.  I  want  to  speak  to  you  of  the 
worth  of  our  responsibilities  in  this  life.  They  are 
often  spoken  of  as  a  weariness  and  a  burden.  We 
pity  ourselves  and  one  another  for  them.  We  dep- 
recate them,  evade  them,  throw  them  off.  If  we 
were  wise,  we  should  thank  God  for  them,  and 
ask  him  for  more.     For, 

First,  they  imply  power,  and  we  all  love  power. 
There  are  none  of  us  who  do  not  like  to  exert  it, 
and  to  know  that  it  has  been  felt.  Cruelty  is,  in 
most   cases,    a  wanton    exertion   of  power  rather 


184        WORTH  OF  OUR  RESPONSIBILITIES, 

than  conscious  inhumanity.  Caprice  and  way- 
wardness are,  for  the  most  part,  sporadic  forth- 
puttings  of  power,  with  the  purpose  of  making 
others  recognize  and  feel  it.  Wealth  is  sought 
and  prized  more  for  the  power  it  gives  than  for 
all  other  ends.  Now  he  who  evades  responsibility 
lacks  the  persistent  and  satisfying  consciousness 
of  power,  and  must  make  spasmodic  trials  of  his 
strength  to  convince  himself  that  he  is  not  utterly 
impotent.  But  he  who  assumes  and  discharges 
faithfully  all  the  trusts  that  the  Divine  Providence 
devolves  upon  him,  knows  that  he  possesses  and 
exerts  an  influence,  —  that  there  are  in  him  en- 
dowments of  substantial  value,  —  that  in  the  sum 
of  humanity  he  is  an  integer,  not  a  ci^jher,  —  a 
being  holding  an  important  position  among  his  fel- 
low-beings. 

Responsibility,  in  the  next  place,  is  a  source  of 
power,  which  grows  onl}^  by  exercise,  and  always 
grows  by  exercise.  Whatever  one  does  normally, 
systematically,  not  only  enhances  his  ability  to  do 
that  one  thing  well,  but  enlarges  his  capacity  of 
effort  in  other  directions.  The  talents  well-used 
are  not  worn,  but  increased,  by  attrition,  —  not 
lost,  but  multiplied,  by  spending.  Time  profitably 
filled  becomes  elastic ;  and  the  hours  which  seem 
too  short  for  the  busy  idler,  exceed  their  normal 
length  to  the   consciousness   of   him   whose   Hfe- 


WORTH  OF  OUR  RESPONSIBILITIES.       185 

work  glows  and  grows  under  his  hands.  Habit 
is  the  best  economizer  of  time  and  power.  Trusts 
discharged  with  method  and  system  create  fixed 
habits  of  business  and  of  duty;  and  it  is  the 
essence  of  habit  to  require  less  and  less  mental 
effort  for  the  performance  of  its  individual  acts, 
and  so  to  release  a  certain  amount  of  brain-power 
for  other  uses.  Thus,  as  the  faithful  steward  has 
more  and  more  committed  to  him,  his  capacity 
increases  with  his  trusts,  his  mind  grows  to  its 
added  work. 

We  have  still  farther  reason  to  be  glad  of 
our  responsibilities,  and  thankful  for  them,  in- 
asmuch as  they  carry  with  them  the  conscious- 
ness of  being  personally  useful ;  and  as  to  this, 
above  all  other  forms  of  beneficence,  we  employ 
no  poetic  license,  but  speak  literal  truth,  Avhen  we 
say  that  it  is  twice  blessed.  He  who  in  any  way 
does  good  to  others  does  still  greater  good  to  him- 
self. The  imperial  glutton  craved  a  hundred  pal- 
ates, that  he  might  multiply  indefinitely  his  coarse 
indulgence.  His  brutal  wish  typifies  the  spnitual 
experience  of  him  who  occupies  a  beneficently 
responsible  position  in  society.  He  enjoys  in  the 
person  of  every  one  to  whom  he  is  a  minister  of 
good.  He  has  as  many  sources  of  happiness  as 
there  are  fellow-beings  for  whom  he  makes  life 
happier  and  better.     He  has  as  many  occasions  of 


186        WORTH  OF  OUR  RESPONSIBILITIES. 

high  felicity  as  he  has  of  beneficent  duty.  We 
may,  without  irreverence,  denominate  his  experi- 
ence in  this  regard  absolutely  divine.  We  deem 
God  supremely  happy.  Is  he  not  so,  because  his 
tender  mercies  are  over  all  his  works  ?  And  must 
we  not  think  of  every  sentient  being  that  enjoys 
his  benignity,  of  every  kind  provision  in  the  uni- 
verse of  matter  and  of  mind,  of  every  beneficent 
act  of  his  administration,  as  contributing  to  his 
eternal  and  immutable  felicity  ? 

Still  farther,  in  assuming  the  responsibilities 
that  lie  around  and  before  us  and  woo  our  service, 
we  are  not  only  entering  into  the  joy  of  our  God, 
but  are  making  ourselves  coworkers  with  him  in 
his  loving  government  of  the  universe.  Poor  as 
we  are  of  ourselves,  we  are  almoners  of  the  ex- 
haustless  wealth  of  his  bounty.  We  hold  on  earth 
the  of&ce  which  we  are  wont  to  attribute  to  the 
angels  of  his  presence  in  heaven. 

I  would  next  ask.  Is  not  responsibility,  assumed 
as  at  God's  bidding,  and  discharged  as  in  his 
sight,  the  very  highest  form  of  devotion  ?  It  is 
often  said  by  persons  who  undervalue  the  formal 
exercises  .of  piety.  Labor  are  est  or  are  (To  work 
is  to  pray).  This  is  not  always  true,  but  it 
ought  to  be,  and  it  will  be,  if  there  be  also 
the  prayer  of  the  lone  hour,  and  of  the  heart 
which   expressly  invokes  the  divine   blessing.     It 


WORTH  OF  OUR  RESPONSIBILITIES.       187 

is  always  true  of  him  who  feels  that  he  is  serv- 
ing God  in  the  charge  and  trust  committed  to 
him,  and  who  seeks  to  acquit  himself  "  as  ever 
in  the  great  Taskmaster's  eye."  He  prays 
while  he  works,  and  prays  by  working,  and  not 
only  receives,  but  under  the  providence  of  God 
creates,  the  answer  to  his  prayer.  He  is  devout, 
pre-eminently  so,  even  though  he  seem  not  to 
pray.  There  are  many  loyal  men  and  women, 
who  make  little  profession,  it  may  be,  of  piet}^, 
but  who  thus  pursue  the  way  of  their  daily  life, 
with  a  sense  of  responsibility,  to  man  indeed,  but 
much  more  to  God,  and  whose  life-work  is  a  per- 
petual altar-service ;  and  I  cannot  but  believe 
that  he  to  w^hom  all  hearts  are  open  accounts 
these  as  among  the  nearest  to  himself,  and  reckons 
every  act  of  loyal  fidelity  to  their  trusts  as  if  it 
were  a  fervent  prayer  at  the  mercy-seat. 

In  fine,  conscientious  faithfulness  to  one's  re- 
sponsibilities is  the  highest  of  all  titles  to  favor 
with  God  and  with  man.  It  is  the  very  noblest 
type  of  character.  It  is  at  once  single  and  multi- 
form. It  is  in  itself  a  distinct  object  of  purpose, 
endeavor,  cultivation ;  while  it  includes  or  subsi- 
dizes in  its  service  almost  every  conceivable  trait 
of  moral  and  spiritual  excellence.  It  implies  self- 
government;  for  no  one  can  administer  that  which 
is  without,  unless  his  owm  soul  be  at  his  own  com- 


188       WORTH  OF  OUR  RESPONSIBILITIES. 

mand, — kindness  of  heart;  for  where  this  is  want- 
ing, even  integrity  uses  short  weight  and  scant 
measure, — piety  Godward;  for  this  is  the  holy 
oil  which  alone  can  feed  the  lamp  of  duty  with  an 
unjQickering  and  perennial  flame.  We  thus  see 
why,  in  numerous  instances,  our  Saviour  represents 
fidelity  to  one's  trust  or  stewardship  as  the  sum  of 
all  duty  and  the  climax  of  excellence.  It  should 
be  the  foremost  aim  of  our  spiritual  ambition.  All 
other  gifts  and  graces,  if  not  sub&ervient  to  this, 
are  of  little  worth.  Even  sincere  and  strong  relig- 
ious feeling,  if  it  issue  not  in  this,  is  but  self- 
deceit  in  one's  own  consciousness,  and  atrociously 
disgusting  and  mischievous  in  its  profession  and 
utterance,  especially  when,  as  has  been  the  case  in 
some  striking  instances  in  public  life,  it  is  em- 
ployed to  cover  up  cowardice,  falsehood,  and  even 
perjury.  One  may,  indeed,  most  fittingly  crave 
a  genuine  fervor  of  spirit,  and  a  corresponding 
power  of  manifestation  and  utterance  for  the  ben- 
efit of  those  around  him  ;  but  these  may  be  want- 
ing where  the  heart  and  the  life  are  true  and 
loyal.  Most  of  all,  therefore,  will  he  who  has 
wisely  learned  of  Christ,  so  discipline  his  own  spirit, 
so  seek  the  guidance  and  support  of  the  Eternal 
Spirit,  and  so  govern  his  daily  life,  that  he  may 
say,  in  yielding  up  his  last  earthly  trust,  "  Father, 
I  have  done  to  the  best  of  my  ability  what  thou 
gavest  me  to  do." 


WORTH  OF  OUR  RESPONSIBILITIES.        189 

In  representing  responsibility  as  not  a  burden, 
but  a  blessing  and  a  joy,  I  am  reminded  that  there 
are  those  who  have  a  morbid  dread  of  responsibil- 
ity as  an  evil  to  be  shunned.  An  evil  it  is,  when 
one  has  not  loyalty  or  energy  enough  to  meet  its 
demands  and  endure  its  strain.  But  I  know  of  no 
person  of  mature  capacity  who  is  more  to  be  pitied 
than  the  man  or  woman  who  has  no  responsibilities, 
no  sphere  of  service,  nothing  to  do  for  the  common 
good,  — a  drone  in  the  hive  where  there  is  or  ought 
to  be  work  for  all.  There  are  not  a  few  who  lack 
responsibilities  alone  to  make  them  happy.  They 
have,  it  may  be,  no  outward  circumstances  of  dis- 
comfort, no  moral  obliquities  to  give  them  shame 
and  trouble.  They,  perhaps,  have  a  keen  sense  of 
religious  obligation,  and  are  in  powers  of  mind  and 
in  qualities  of  heart  admirably  well  fitted  for  in- 
fluence, usefulness,  extended  charge  and  weighty 
trust.  But  they  are  unhappy,  or  the  prey  of  fre- 
quent ennui,  they  know  not  why,  —  yet  it  is  per- 
fectly obvious  that  it  is  because  their  talents  are 
wrapped  in  a  napkin  or  buried  in  the  ground,  in- 
stead of  being  put  to  use.  I  have  known  instances 
in  which  such  persons,  late  in  life,  have  discovered 
this  secret  of  a  lifelong  weariness  and  unrest. 
Housed  to  beneficent  activity  by  some  pecuhar 
stress  of  circumstances,  they  have  found,  in  cares 
and  burdens  which  they  would  once  have  regarded 


190        WORTH  OF  OUR  RESPONSIBILITIES. 

as  untempered  misery,  a  happiness  of  which  they 
had  not  dreamed  before.  There  may  be  among 
those  whom  I  address,  some  one  to  whom,  for  his 
content,  peace,  and  happiness,  it  only  needs  to  be 
said.  Put  yourself  in  relations  of  trust  and  duty 
with  your  fellow-beings.  Make  yourself  what  God 
means  that  you  should  be,  an  instrument  in  his 
hands  for  doing  some  part  of  his  work  of  love. 
Seek  your  happiness  by  an  active  stewardship  of 
what  God  has  given  into  j^our  charge,  not  that  you 
should  merely  keep  it,  but  that  you  should  use  it 
and  make  it  grow. 

As  for  those  of  us  who  have  important  trusts, 
heavy  cares,  responsibilities  under  which  we  are 
sometimes  ready  to  sink,  and  to  exclaim,  Who  is 
sufficient  for  these  things  ?  let  us  remember  that, 
however  we  may  distrust  ourselves,  we  may  trust 
him  who  has  given  us  our  stewardships  for  the 
counsel  and  the  strength  that  shall  be  adequate  to 
our  need.  Let  us  thank  him  that  he  has  so  favored 
and  honored  us  as  to  make  us  his  stewards  ;  and 
thank  him,  too,  for  the  assurance  that  the  diligent 
and  conscientious  steward  in  leaving  this  world 
shall  resign  his  charge  only  for  a  larger  trust,  — 
that,  faithful  in  a  few  things,  he  shall  be  made  ruler 
over  many. 


CHRIST'S   YOKE  AND  BURDEN.  191 


XYI.     ' 

CHRIST'S  YOKE  AND   BURDEN. 
"  My  yoke  is  easy,  and  my  burden  is  light.*'  —  Matt.  xi.  30. 

TESTIS  lays  no  yoke,  imposes  no  burden  upon  us. 
^  We  have  yokes  laid  upon  us  by  the  necessity 
of  our  being  ;  we  have  taken  upon  ourselves  bur- 
dens by  our  own  folly  and  sin :  and  these  Jesus 
calls  his,  simply  because  he  makes  them  easy  and 
light,  —  so  easy  that  it  is  no  longer  painful  to  wear 
them,  so  light  that  we  almost  lose  the  conscious- 
ness of  carrying  them.  Christianity  has  a  great 
deal  ascribed  to  it  that  does  not  belong  to  it,  —  a 
great  deal  laid  to  its  charge  for  which  it  is  in  no 
sense  accountable.  Those  who  are  not  Christians 
in  heart  and  character  are  often  indifferent  or  even 
hostile  to  Christianity,  on  the  ground  of  its  being 
burdensome  and  exacting;  and  sincere  Christians 
are  very  apt  to  impute  to  it  what  they  have  to  bear 
solely  because  they  became  Christians  so  late,  just 
as  if  an  invalid  should  hold  his  physician  account- 
able for  the  disease  which  he  had  relieved,  and 
would  have  prevented  or  cured  had  he  been  called 
earlier. 


192  CHRIST'S   YOKE  AND  BURDEN. 

Let  us  consider  some  of  the  particulars  in  which 
Christ  is  reputed  to  impose  a  peculiarly  galHng 
yoke  and  heavy  burden. 

It  is  a  very  common  idea  that  Christianity  has 
its  own  exclusive  and  severe  standard  of  duty,  — 
that  it  requires  many  things  to  be  done  or  refrained 
from,  which  are  in  themselves  matters  of  indiffer- 
ence. I  acknowledge  no  such  standard.  Unless 
it  be  the  simple  ritual  of  our  reUgion,  which  is  bur- 
densome to  no  one,  I  know  of  no  obligation  that 
rests  upon  me  as  a  Christian,  which  does  not 
equally  rest  upon  me  as  a  man.  The  only  reason 
why  I  am  bound  to  do  any  thing  is,  that  it  is  intrin- 
sically right  and  fitting  ;  the  only  reason  why  I  am 
bound  to  refrain  from  doing  any  thing  is,  that  it  is 
intrinsically  wrong  and  unfitting.  Purity,  indus- 
try, justice,  charity,  reverence  for  all  that  is  great, 
love  for  all  that  is  good,  —  are  enjoined  upon  me 
by  the  law  of  my  nature,  and  their  opposites  are 
forbidden  by  the  same  law.  Moreover,  this  is  not 
an  inert  law.  It  executes  itself,  bestows  its  re- 
wards, inflicts  its  penalties,  even  though  one  be 
wholly  ignorant  of  it.  Whatever  is  in  itself  right 
and  fitting  conduces  to  happiness ;  whatever  is 
wrong  and  unfitting  leads  to  misery,  —  and  this, 
not  because  Christ  has  enjoined  or  forbidden  such 
and  such  things,  but  because  these  tendencies  are 
inherent  in  all  being,  coeternal  with  the  Infinite 


CHRIST'S  YOKE  AND  BURDEN.  193 

Being,  and  omnipotence  itself  cannot  suspend  or 
reverse  them.  Christianity  cannot  enable  us  to  do 
more  than  the  right,  nor  can  the  rejection  of  Chris- 
tianity make  less  than  the  right  incumbent  upon 
us.  The  full  burden  of  duty  rests  upon  us  from 
the  first  to  the  last  moment  of  our  self-conscious- 
ness as  moral  beings  :  and  a  crushingh^  heavy  bur- 
den it  is,  when  we  are  ignorant  of  the  right,  or 
when,  knowing  it,  we  lack  motive  power  to  actual- 
ize it ;  for  in  either  case  we  inevitably  encounter 
the  full  penalty  and  suffering  of  the  right  omitted 
and  the  wrong  committed.  But  this  burden  Christ 
makes  light  and  easy  in  two  ways,  —  first,  by 
giving  us  clear  knowledge  of  the  right,  in  his  plain 
and  unmistakable  precepts,  and,  most  of  all,  in  the 
beauty  of  holiness  as  exhibited  in  his  life ;  and, 
secondly,  by  the  irresistible  motives  to  duty  which 
he  supplies  in  the  love  of  God  our  Father,  in  his 
own  interceding,  dying,  ever-living  love,  and  in  the 
hope  full  of  immortality. 

It  follows  from  what  I  have  said  that  the  bur- 
den of  a  righteous  retribution  for  wrong-doing  is 
not  imposed  by  Christ.  Many  revolt  from  Chris- 
tianity on  the  ground  of  its  severe  denunciation  of 
bitter  penalty  and  suffering  for  Avrong  and  evil. 
But  is  it  one  whit  more  severe  than  human  expe- 
rience ?  What  form  of  wrong-doing  is  there  that 
has  not  written  and  is  not  writing  its  record  in 
9  M 


194  CHRIST'S   YOKE  AND  BURDENS 

misery,  woe,  and  blood  ?  The  government  of  the 
universe  in  its  whole  tenor  says,  it  is  inscribed  in 
letters  of  lurid  flame  on  every  page  of  man's  his- 
tory, —  "  There  is  no  peace  to  the  wicked." 
Still  more,  wherever,  out  of  the  pale  of  Chris- 
tendom, there  has  been  any  belief  or  conjecture 
of  a  life  beyond  the  present,  the  penal  judg- 
ment of  God,  so  manifest  in  this  world,  has 
projected  itself  into  the  unknown  future  in  the 
most  appalling  forms.  Witness  the  Greek  and 
Roman  mythologies,  the  various  oriental  systems, 
the  more  than  Rhadamanthine  sternness  and  search- 
ing scrutiny  of  the  trial  of  the  dead  in  the  hieratic 
monuments  of  Egypt,  the  notions  even  of  barba- 
rous and  savage  tribes.  ^  Indeed,  it  may  be  ques- 
tioned whether  there  has  ever  been,  except  in 
certain  Christian  sects,  any  theory  or  apprehension 
of  a  future  life,  which  has  not  had  its  Tartarus 
and  its  Phlegethon.  Nor  can  any  reasonable  man 
show  how,  if  death  be  not  annihilation,  it  can 
arrest  the  order  of  moral  cause  and  effect  which 
we  trace  visibly  and  consciously  up  to  the  very 
moment  of  death.  If,  then,  we  feel  that  the  pen- 
alty of  sin  is  a  heavy  yoke  and  burden,  let  us 
remember  that  it  is  not  a  yoke  shaped  by  Christ, 
or  a  burden  imposed  by  him.  On  the  other  hand, 
his  agency  with  regard  to  it  is  only  merciful ;  for 
what  can  be  more  merciful  than  his  explicit  decla- 


CHRIST'S    YOKE  AND  BURDEN.  195 

ration  of  the  penalty,  —  not  leaving  us  to  infer  it 
by  the  induction  of  particular  instances,  from  our 
own  miserable  experience,  or  from  the  reflection 
and  reasoning  which  are  so  prone  to  be  overborne 
and  neutralized  by  strong  temptation;  but  an- 
nouncing it  explicitly  and  authoritatively,  so  that 
his  utterances  admit  of  no  misconstruction,  and 
under  his  training  the  youth  may  enter  life 
with  as  clear  a  knowledge  of  the  tendencies  and 
consequences  of  actions  as  else  could  accrue  to 
him  only  by  lengthened  years  and  the  saddest 
experiments  in  evil  living?  If  there  be  actual 
soul-peril,  is  not  he  our  best  friend  who  gives  the 
quickest,  sharpest,  most  imperative  cry  of  alarm 
and  warning  ?  Did  Christ  enact  or  inflict  the 
penalty,  we  might  well  call  his  religion  severe, 
and  look  upon  him  as  a  prophet  of  ill  omen.  But 
the  revelation  of  what  always  was  and  ever  will 
be,  is  the  part  of  beneficence  ;  and  the  clearer  and 
more  emphatic  the  revelation,  the  greater  is  the 
beneficence.  Especially,  if  moral  evil  is  of  neces- 
sity and  by  its  own  nature  inevitably  fatal  to  hap- 
piness (as  is  doubtless  the  case),  he  who  makes 
men  the  most  clearly  perceive  and  feel  this,  does 
all  that  divine  goodness  can  do  in  lightening  the 
most  galling  j^oke,  the  most  crushing  burden  that 
can  rest  on  human  shoulders. 

But  it  may  be  said,  If  Christ  imposes  nothing 


196  CERISrS   YOKE  AND  BURDEN. 

else  upon  his  followers,  lie  expressly  lays  upon 
them  the  yoke  of  penitence,  the  burden  of  self- 
reproach.  This  I  deny.  Penitence,  being  the 
consequence  of  sin,  can  certainly  with  no  fitness 
be  ascribed  to  him,  whose  special  mission  is  to 
supersede  or  put  away  sin.  It  is  a  burden 
which  we  bring  with  us  into  the  school  of  Christ, 
not  one  that  is  laid  upon  us  there.  Nor  can  we 
get  rid  of  it  by  remaining  aloof  from  Christ.  It 
has  rested  far  more  heavily  under  Pagan  than 
ever  under  Christian  auspices.  There  it  has 
found  expression  in  horrible  and  lifelong  self- 
torture,  in  bloody  sacrifices,  in  the  immolation  of 
human  victims,  in  the  "giving  of  the  first-born 
for  transgression,  the  fruit  of  the  body  for  the  sin 
of  the  soul ; "  and  even  then  it  has  failed  of  the 
peace  it  sought,  and  has  still  cowered  in  dread  of 
the  divine  vengeance,  wrathful  and  unappeasable. 
But  through  Christ  penitence  is  the  way  to  peace. 
Its  tears  are  the  dew-drops  of  the  soul's  resurrec- 
tion-morning. Its  throes  are  the  agonies  of  a 
heavenly  birth.  Its  sorrows  are  the  springs  of  an 
everlasting  joy.  Forgiveness  is  the  counterpart 
of  Christian  penitence  ;  and  though  forgiveness 
arrests  not  the  malign  consequences  of  pre- 
existing evil,  it  nevertheless  puts  into  action 
an  immeasurably  more  potent  order  of  moral 
causes,    which    overbear,    dwarf,    obliterate    the 


CffBlSrS   YOKE  AND  BURDEN.  197 

train  of  evil  consequences.  The  uniform  expe- 
rience of  the  truly  penitent  has  evinced  that  good 
is  beyond  all  comparison  more  potent  than  evil ; 
and  he  avIio  starts  on  a  virtuous  course,  repentant 
and  forgiven,  energized  by  the  love  of  God  and 
the  assurance  of  his  love,  rises  by  rapid  stages 
into  a  sphere  in  which  even  liis  own  past  sins  no 
longer  hang  about  him  as  retarding  and  disturbing 
forces. 

It  may  still  be  objected  to  my  general  statement 
that  Christ  expressly,  in  words  that  cannot  admit 
of  a  double  interpretation,  lays  on  his  disciples 
the  burden  of  self-denial.  This  I  cannot  admit. 
Self-denial  is  not  a  Christian  duty,  but  a  universal 
human  necessity.  Christ  does  not  create  the  obli- 
gation to  self-denial,  but  only  prescribes  its  mode 
and  its  objects,  and  he  does  so  in  such  a  way  as  to 
render  this  inevitable  yoke  and  burden  light  and 
easy  to  the  utmost  degree  possible.  That  self- 
denial  is  a  necessity  every  child  has  learned,  and 
the  experience  of  every  day  of  our  lives  renews 
the  lesson.  We  cannot  have  all  that  we  desire, 
but  must  purchase  some  things  by  denying  our- 
selves others.  In  the  ordering  of  our  lives,  we 
have  constantly  to  make  our  choice  as  to  three 
pairs  of  alternatives.  We  may,  when  both  cannot 
be  secured  at  the  same  time,  make  choice  of  ani- 
mal enjoyment  or  spuitual   happiness,  selfish   or 


198  CHRIST'S   YOKE  AND  BURDEN. 

beneficent  habits  of  life,  interests  that  are  limited 
to  this  world  or  those  that  appertain  to  our  immor- 
tal being.  Let  us  look  at  each  of  those  alterna- 
tives separately. 

If  we  deny  ourselves  spiritual  happiness  for 
mere  sensual  gratification,  enjoyment  is  keen  at 
the  outset,  but  soon  impaired,  by  excess  even  neu- 
tralized, then  transformed  into  disease,  misery, 
disgrace,  ruin ;  while  with  decreasing  pleasure, 
but  continued  indulgence,  the  chains  of  bondage 
to  the  flesh  are  constantly  growing  tighter.  The 
body  at  length  becomes  a  close  prison  for  the  soul, 
and  the  prison-walls  keep  thickening  inward,  so  as 
to  leave  ever  narrower  room  for  the  exercise  of 
thought,  sentiment,  and  feeling.  The  merciless 
tyranny  of  habit  becomes  more  exacting  the  less 
revenue  it  yields,  and  is  most  imperative  when 
it  has  survived  all  capacity  of  enjoyment.  If,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  body  be  denied  for  the  sake 
of  the  soul,  it  is  only  the  first  steps  that  cost. 
With  every  successive  stage  of  progress  there  is 
ever  larger  freedom  and  fuller  joy,  so  that  there  is 
a  vivid  realization  of  the  Psalmist's  fervent  utter- 
ance, ''  Oh,  how  love  I  thy  law !  .  .  .  How  sweet 
are  thy  words  unto  my  taste  !  yea,  sweeter  than 
honey  to  my  mouth !  " 

If  the  benevolent  be  denied  in  behalf  of  the  sel- 
fish impulses,  the  social  nature  is  cramped,  made 


CERISrS   YOKE  AND  BURDEN.  199 

unfruitful,  deadened,  the  wretchedness  of  isola- 
tion (and  there  is  no  greater  wretchedness)  en- 
sues, the  rich  revenue  to  be  derived  from  the 
social  relations  is  cut  off,  and  one  learns  only  too 
late  that,  so  far  as  substantial  happiness  is  con- 
cerned, no  man  "  can  live  unto  himself."  On  the 
other  hand,  if  self  be  denied  for  the  good  of  oth- 
ers, we  receive  immeasurably  more  than  we  be- 
stow ;  we  multiply  our  avenues  of  enjoyment ;  we 
are  refreshed  and  gladdened  by  every  stream  and 
rill  of  beneficence,  kind  office,  and  genial  feeling, 
that  flows  from  our  abundance  or  trickles  from  our 
scanty  resources ;  we  have  as  many  fountains  of 
happiness  as  there  are  hearts  and  lives  to  whose 
happiness  we  minister. 

If  we  deny  ourselves  spiiitual  for  temporal 
good,  this  earthly  life  narrows  its  horizon,  oh,  how 
rapidly !  with  advancing  years,  till  at  length  all 
that  we  have  sought  and  delighted  in  lies  behind 
us,  —  before  us  only  a  black,  impenetrable  wall, 
with  the  inscription  more  and  more  vivid,  "  What 
is  a  man  profited,  if  he  shall  gain  the  whole  world, 
and  lose  his  own  soul  ?  "  If,  on  the  other  hand, 
we  deny  ourselves  temporal  for  eternal  good,  our 
horizon  broadens  and  brightens  as  the  years  roll 
on ;  the  rays  of  the  undeclining  day  replace  the 
waning  lustre  of  our  earthly  day ;  heaven  dawns 
on  the  lengthening  shadows  of  our  setting  sun; 


200  CERTSrS   YOKE  AND  BURDEN. 

and   in   the    evening-time   there   is  light,   peace, 
hope,  joy. 

Does  Christ,  then,  impose  the  yoke  of  self- 
denial  ?  Or  is  it  not  rather  through  him  that  this 
inevitable  burden  is  made  such  that  we  can  carry 
it  joyously  and  thankfully  ?  It  must  be  borne  in 
mind  that  the  demand  upon  our  self-denial,  re- 
duced as  it  is  to  its  lowest  terms,  is  never  made 
by  Christ  needlessly,  for  its  own  sake,  but  only 
where  the  higher  good  cannot  be  attained  without 
sacrifice  of  the  inferior.  The  gospel  is  at  the 
farthest  possible  remove  from  asceticism.  What- 
ever of  bodily,  self-centred,  and  earthly  good  we 
can  secure  without  detriment  to  the  s]3iritual  na- 
ture, to  our  fellow-men,  or  our  eternal  well-being, 
is  ours  to  acquire,  utilize,  and  enjoy  to  the  full; 
and  we  best  show  our  gratitude  to  our  infinite 
Benefactor,  our  piety  to  our  heavenly  Father, 
when  we  drink  freely,  and  in  full  draughts, 
of  every  pure  fountain  of  gladness  that  he  has 
opened  for  us,  —  when  with  every  power,  sense, 
and  faculty  of  body,  mind,  and  soul,  we  take  in 
the  most  that  we  can  of  this  rich  and  beautiful 
world,  in  which  there  are  innumerable  objects- 
made  only  to  be  enjoyed  as  Godsends,  and  as 
types  of  the  things  that  eye  has  not  seen,  nor  ear 
heard,  nor  heart  conceived,  which  God  has  pre- 
pared for  those  that  love  him. 


CHRIST'S   YOKE  AND  BURDEN.  201 

Finally,  there  remains  the  unavoidable  burden 
of  earthly  suffering,  loss,  calamity,  bereavement,  — 
a  burden  which  least  of  all  can  even  a  perverse 
understanding  ascribe  directly  to  Jesus,  yet  which 
his  disciple  loves  to  term  peculiarly  his,  so  entirely 
is  it  transformed  by  him,  from  a  load  that  drags 
the  soul  down  to  the  depths  of  despair,  into  a 
"weight  elastic,  though  still  heavy,  sustained  by  the 
everlasting  arms  beneath,  and  its  pressure  relieved 
at  every  point  by  the  buoyancy  of  an  immortal 
hope.  I  once  saw  West's  famous  picture  of  Christ 
Healing  the  Sick ;  and  though  I  have  since  seen 
many  pictures  of  far  greater  artistical  merit,  there 
is  but  one  of  them  all  that  recurs  so  frequently  to 
my  thought ;  for  the  infirm,  wan,  wasted,  crippled 
figures,  in  which  the  Saviour's  very  look  seems 
starting  anew  the  pulse-beat  of  healthy  life,  come  up 
to  my  mind  as  symbolizing  the  fears,  anxieties,  and 
griefs  that,  all  the  world  over,  in  believing  hearts, 
are  turned  to  his  loving  eye,  laid  bare  for  his 
healing  touch,  committed  to  his  ministry  of  relief 
and  restoration. 

Most  of  all  does  he  make  our  burden  his  in  our 
bereavements.  There  are,  indeed,  as  many  of  us 
well  know,  memories  of  the  departed  which  can 
never  cease  to  be  regretful,  —  void  places  in  the 
nearer  circle  which,  especially  in  the  life  that  has 
passed  its  meridian,  can  never  be  filled,  —  voices 
9* 


202  CHRIST'S   YOKE  AND  BURDEN. 

and  footsteps  not  to  be  heard  again  in  this  world, 
whose  retreating  echo  can  never  die  on  the  inward 
ear.  Oh,  what  must  all  this  be,  how  depressing, 
how  agonizing,  to  the  soul  to  which  the  lost  is  for 
ever  lost,  the  dead  are  irrevocably  dead  !  But 
though  sad,  yet  sweetly  sad,  though  dreary,  yet 
never  without  flecks  and  glimmerings  of  glorious 
sunlight,  are  these  experiences,  when  Jesus  has 
filled  the  soul  with  trust  in  the  Father's  unchang- 
ing love,  has  made  it  feel  the  power  of  his  own 
resurrection,  and  has  given  it  full  assurance  of  the 
reunion  where  there  is  no  parting,  —  of  the  greet- 
ing followed  by  no  farewell,  —  of  the  speedy  advent 
of  the  day  when  those  who  have  gone  and  those 
who  stay  here,  now  in  one  Father's  house,  shall 
again  dwell  together  in  the  same  room  of  that 
house. 

Come,  then,  to  him,  all  ye  weary  and  heavy-laden, 
—  ye  who  bow  under  the  weight  of  sin,  the  stress 
of  duty,  or  the  healing  pains  of  penitence,  —  ye 
who  suffer  and  who  mourn,  —  ye  who  are  bereaved, 
stricken,  desolate, —  come  to  him,  bear  your  yokes, 
bring  your  burdens  to  him,  that  they  may  be  made 
light  and  easy  for  you  till  you  shall  drop  them  at 
his  feet  at  the  gate  of  heaven. 


THE  DISCIPLINE  OF  LIFE.  203 


XYII. 

THE    DISCIPLINE    OF   LIFE. 
**  The  Lord  will  perfect  that  which  concerneth  me." — Psalm  cxxxviii.8. 

A  FRIEND  said  to  me  one  Sunday,  on  the  way 
from  church,  "  How  sad  it  is  that  we  cannot 
devote  ourselves  more  constantly  to  our  own  spirit- 
ual culture !  There  are  so  many  utterly  unspiritual 
things  to  be  done  or  gone  through  with,  that  it  is 
really  very  little  time  that  we  can  give  to  the  great 
work  of  this  life,  —  our  preparation  for  a  higher 
and  better  life."  This  would  have  been  well  said, 
were  it  not  that  the  very  condition  of  things  com- 
plained of  is  a  providential  necessity,  of  God's 
appointment,  and  therefore  undoubtedly  better  for 
us  than  any  method  that  we  might  deem  prefer- 
able. If  the  soul  and  God  and  heaven  are  not 
fictions,  we  are  constrained  to  believe  that  the 
Divine  Providence  orders  our  discipline  here  with  a 
view  to  our  surest  nurture  and  our  highest  good, 
that  its  school  is  our  best  school,  its  designated 
way  the  best  way  for  us. 

I  doubt  whether  the  concentrated  devotion  to 


204  THE  DISCIPLINE   OF  LIFE. 

the  soul  for  which  the  devout  often  yearn  is  the 
fit  mode  of  educating  the  soul.  Probably,  even 
to  the  most  religious  mind,  the  cloister  has  never 
been  so  favorable  to  the  growth  of  ^jiety  as  the 
duties  of  an  active  life  or  of  a  Christian  home 
would  have  been.  A  good  man  somewhat  given 
to  cant,  meeting  Wilberforce  one  day,  said  to  him, 
"Brother,  how  is  it  now  with  your  soul?"  and 
was  shocked  beyond  measure  by  the  philanthro- 
pist's reply,  "I  have  been  so  busy  about  those  poor 
negroes,  that  I  had  forgotten  I  had  a  soul."  Yet 
there  can  be  no  doubt  that  by  means  of  "  those 
poor  negroes  "  Wilberforce's  soul  had  been  grow- 
ing a  great  deal  faster  than  that  of  his  friend,  who 
had  perhaps  spent  half  his  time  in  counting  the 
pulse-beats  of  devotional  feeling. 

A  like  lesson  is  well  taught  in  a  legend  of  St. 
Anthon}^,  Avhich  in  tone  and  spirit  belongs  to  a 
more  enlightened  ag^e  than  his.  The  saint  —  so 
the  story  runs  —  had  lived  many  years  in  the  des- 
ert, in  solitude,  abstinence,  and  prayer,  till  he  came 
to  regard  himself  as  the  holiest  man  on  earth.  One 
day  there  came  to  his  ear  a  voice  from  heaven,  say- 
ing, -'  Anthony,  thou  art  not  so  holy  as  is  a  certain 
cobbler  now  dwelling  at  Alexandria."  On  hearing 
this,  Anthony  took  his  staff  and  trudged  many  a 
wear}'  mile,  till  he  found  himself  at  the  cobbler's 
stall,  when  he  told  his  errand.     '•'-  Declare  to  me," 


THE  DISCIPLINE   OF  LIFE.  205 

said  he,  "  thy  good  works,  thine  alms-deeds,  and 
the  great  things  that  thou  art  doing  for  God ;  for 
it  has  been  revealed  to  me  from  heaven  that  thou 
art  the  holiest  man  on  the  earth."  The  cobbler 
replied,  "  Good  works  do  I  none  ;  great  things  are 
beyond  my  ability.  I  rise  betimes  in  the  morning, 
and  pray  for  my  neighbors  and  poor  friends,  and 
for  the  whole  city.  Then  I  go  to  my  work,  and 
spend  the  Avhole  day  in  getting  my  living.  I  abhor 
falsehood,  and  wdien  I  make  a  promise,  I  keep  it. 
I  teach  my  wife  and  children,  to  the  best  of  my 
slender  capacity,  to  serve  and  pjlease  God  ;  and  I 
help  my  poor  neighbors  when  I  can.  This  is  the 
sum  of  ray  whole  life." 

In  speaking  thus  I  would  not  have  it  inferred 
that  I  hold  emotional  piety  in  low  repute.  On 
the  other  hand,  I  look  upon  it  as  the  Alpha  and 
the  Omega,  the  source  and  the  consummation  of 
all  that  is  excellent  in  man.  But  perpetual  and 
over-anxious  watching  may  do  as  little  for  the 
plants  of  God's  planting  in  the  heart  as  for  those 
of  our  own  planting  in  our  gardens. 

Nor  would  I  have  it  supposed  that  I  undervalue 
the  direct  ofSces  of  piety,  whether  secret  or  social. 
On  the  other  hand,  I  regard  them  as  an  essential 
part  of  the  x^lan  of  Providence.  Sabbatical  insti- 
tutions—  divine,  I  firmly  believe,  in  their  origin 
and   appointment  —  are   so  incorporated  with  the 


206  TEE  DISCIPLINE  OF  LIFE. 

framework  of  civilized  society,  that,  though  they 
may,  at  some  periods,  as  at  the  present,  lose  a 
part  of  their  prestige,  they  will  never  be  set  aside, 
and  will  always  bring  with  them  the  opportunity 
and  the  invitation  for  express  religious  worship  and 
self-communion.  Daily,  too,  as  we  yield  up  all 
care  for  ourselves  in  the  night-watches  to  our  un- 
slumbering  Guardian,  and  as  the  morning  restores 
us  to  ourselves  laden  with  unnumbered  tokens  of 
divine  benignity,  there  is  a  call  to  prayer  and 
praise  which  the  soul  that  owns  its  Father  cannot 
but  obey.  There  are,  also,  at  less  regular  inter- 
vals, not  infrequent  seasons  forced  upon  us,  when 
serious  reflection  and  heaven-directed  thought 
seem  almost  inevitable,  —  when  the  soul's  in- 
stinctive cry  is,  "  I  will  arise,  and  go  to  my 
Father."  These  occasions  are  inestimabl}^  pre- 
cious,—  yet  less  so  in  themselves,  than  for  what 
we  carry  from  them  into  common  life.  But  God 
trains  us,  for  the  most  part,  in  ways  which  we 
should  not  choose  for  that  purpose,  and  sometimes 
in  ways  which  we  are  prone  to  regard  as  injurious 
rather  than  helpful.  To  some  of  these  methods 
of  the  Divine  Providence  I  would  now  ask  your 
attention. 

There  is  hardly  any  thing  of  which  we  are  more 
apt  to  complain  than  routine-work,  especially  that 
in  which  not  hand  or  foot,  but  brain  and  soul, 


THE   DISCIPLINE   OF  LIFE.  207 

are  compelled  to  go  over  the  self-same  round  day- 
after  day  and  year  after  year.  We  are  '  sometimes 
inclined,  in  our  weariness,  to  resort  for  terms  of 
comparison  to  the  very  Tartarus  of  our  classical 
studies,  —  the  rock  of  Sisyphus  and  the  sieve  of 
the  Danaides.  Yet  we  might  look  for  our  par- 
allel in  the  opposite  direction ;  for  is  not  the  ad- 
ministration of  this  glorious  universe,  for  the  most 
part,  a  routine  ?  Has  not  the  infinite  Creator,  for 
unnumbered  aeons,  renewed,  day  by  day  and  year 
by  year,  the  same  unvarying  round  of  beneficent 
ministries  ?  And  if  we  may  be  permitted  to  speak 
of  that  self-consciousness  in  which  our  own  has  its 
birth,  must  we  not  think  of  this  routine  as  a  part 
of  God's  supreme  felicity,  while  ever  new  love, 
mercy,  and  compassion  flow  in  the  course  of  uni- 
versal nature,  and  breathe  in  the  benignant  will, 
which  is  no  less  essential  from  moment  to  moment 
than  when  in  the  beginning  it  moulded  chaos  into 
form,  life,  and  beauty?  Now,  so  far  as  God's  spirit 
is  in  us,  our  routine-work  shall  be  exalted,  hal- 
lowed, glorified,  made  more  and  more  like  his.  Is 
it  for  the  benefit  of  others,  and  is  it  lovingly 
wrought?  If  so,  those  affections  which  are  so  essen- 
tial a  part  of  the  soul's  best  life,  are  exercised, 
fed,  and  strengthened  by  it,  and  we  thus  become  — 
though  it  be  without  our  distinct  consciousness  — 
enlarged  in  our  sympathies,  broadened  in  our  char- 


208  THE  DISCIPLINE   OF  LIFE. 

ity,  better  fitted  for  every  genial  ministry  of  earth 
and  of  heaven.  Or  is  our  hfe-work  one  which 
has  prime  reference  to  self,  yet  imposed  upon  us 
by  necessities  of  subsistence  or  position  which  we 
cannot  evade  ?  If  so,  it  is  of  God's  appointment, 
—  a  part  of  our  divine  service  ;  and  if  it  be  per- 
vaded by  the  true  spirit  of  service,  it  is  a  routine 
only  in  appearance,  —  in  reality,  it  is  a  revolution 
on  an  ever  higher  plane,  in  an  ever  larger  orbit ; 
and  we  shall  find  in  God's  good  time  that  it  has 
been  training  us  for  the  unwearjdng  service  of  the 
heavenly  temple.  Yet  again,  is  our  routine,  as  it 
probably  is,  one  which  admits,  with  every  new 
revolution,  of  more  of  mind,  and  soul,  and 
strength?  Then,  wearisome  though  it  be,  it  is 
a  healthful  discipline,  equally  for  the  powers 
which  it  calls  into  exercise,  and  for  that  consci- 
entious fidelity  in  our  appointed  sphere,  which 
must  concur  with  trained  and  tried  capacity  in 
fitting  the  steward  of  the  few  and  small  things 
committed  to  his  earthly  trust  for  the  larger  stew- 
ardship of  the  heavenly  life. 

Another  subject  of  frequent  complaint  is  the 
waste  of  time  in  unavoidable,  but  unprofitable, 
social  engagements.  The  hours  which,  if  taken 
from  more  laborious  pursuits,  we  would  gladly 
devote  to  entertaining  or  lucrative  intercourse 
with   equals    and  friends,  the  wise  and  the   bril- 


THE  DISCIPLINE   OF  LIFE.  209 

liant,  those  whose  converse  is  our  privilege  and 
our  joy,  must  often  be  spent  where  we  give,  and 
receive  nothing  in  return, — it  may  be,  with  those 
whom  we  see  fit  to  call  dull  and  stupid,  or  frivo- 
lous and  emptj^,  or  with  the  impertinent  and  im- 
portunate, —  with  those  who  claim  sympathy  to 
which  they  seem  to  have  no  right,  or  aid  to  which 
they  can  proffer  no  title  other  than  their  need. 
We  have  to  endure,  many  of  us,  tedious  and 
needless  details,  vain  repetitions,  profitless  ques- 
tionings. Can  this  be  a  part  of  our  spiritual  edu- 
cation ?  Yes ;  and  a  most  essential  part.  It 
comes  to  us  through  the  ordering  of  Providence, 
and  is  therefore,  no  doubt,  better  for  us  than  the 
great  things  Avhich  we  would  gladly  do  instead, 
but  for  which  the  opportunity  is  not  afforded  us. 
As  regards  our  self-centred  plans  and  purposes, 
our  capacity  and  ambition  in  certain  directions, 
there  is  for  some  of  us  a  fearful  expense  of  time 
in  such  ways  as  I  have  specified.  But  Ave  shall 
one  day  own  that  no  time  has  been  better  spent,  if 
on  these  occasions  we  have  exercised  patience,  for- 
bearance, unwearying  kindness,  persevering  help- 
fulness, —  if  we  have  given  pleasure,  diffused 
happiness,  relieved  burdens,  cleared  perplexity, 
shed  sunlight  on  those  who  live  under  the  shadow, 
quickened  dull  minds,  lightened  heavy  hearts. 
The  divine  Teacher  says,  that  it  is  not  Avhat  goes 


210  THE  DISCIPLINE   OF  LIFE. 

into,  but  what  comes  out  of,  a  man  that  defiles  him  ; 
and,  conversely,  it  is  not  what  goes  into,  but  what 
comes  out  of,  the  man  that  exalts  and  sanctifies 
Lim.  In  all  social  relations  it  is  more  blessed  to 
give  than  to  receive.  There  is  no  connection  with 
our  fellow-beings,  by  which  we  are  not  improved 
and  advanced,  morally  and  spiritually,  if  we  enter 
into  it  with  a  kind  heart,  a  generous  purpose,  and 
an  earnest  endeavor  to  do  good.  Moreover,  if  we 
have  to  endure  intercourse  that  is  in  no  sense  or 
measure  fruitful  and  edifying,  —  if  there  are  those 
whom  we  must,  in  the  vulgar  phrase,  put  up  with 
rather  than  enjoy,  let  us  think  what  an  infinite 
fountain  of  forbearance  and  unlimited  love  is 
drawn  upon  all  the  time  by  the  children  of  our 
Father  in  heaven,  whose  immeasurable  joy  is  in 
this  constant  outflow  with  no  gainful  incoming; 
and  conscious  that  we  are  among  those  whose  only 
claim  has  been  his  love  and  not  their  desert,  shall 
we  not  imbibe  the  spirit  which  bears  with  us  and 
with  all,  and  flows  in  unceasing  benignity  while 
the  returns  of  gratitude  are  so  few,  so  scanty,  and 
so  cold? 

But  in  such  ways  as  I  have  spoken  of,  solid  por- 
tions of  time  that  might  have  been  given  to  our 
own  mental  culture  are  often  invaded  and  frittered 
away.  Can  this  be  good  for  us  ?  Yes,  if  Provi- 
dence so  wills.     Growing  knowledge  is,  no  doubt, 


THE  DISCIPLINE   OF  LIFE,  211 

an  unspeakable  benefit ;  yet  we  may  be  too  impa- 
tient for  its  acquisition.  We  may  feel  too  much 
as  if  this  world  gave  the  only  opportunities  for 
mental  cultivation  and  growth.  God's  work  seems 
slow,  because  he  has  an  eternity  before  liim  ;  and 
may  we  not  be  content  to  be  retarded  in  our  plans 
of  culture,  with  an  eternity  before  us  ?  A  part  of 
what  we  may  regret  that  we  lose  here  will  be  of 
no  interest  or  worth  to  us  when  we  go  hence ;  and 
for  all  that  we  can  then  desire  and  need  there  is 
ample  room  in  the  limitless  future.  All  great 
trutlis  are  eternal,  and  it  may  make  less  difference 
than  we  imagine  whether  our  progress  in  this 
world  be  suspended  at  a  lower  or  a  higher  stage, 
if  the  suspension  be  but  momentary,  and  what  we 
attain  not  here  will  be  ours  hereafter.  What 
chiefly  concerns  us  is  the  love  of  truth,  the  earnest 
aim  for  its  attainment,  the  habit  of  mind  which 
shall  dispose  us  in  all  time  and  in  all  worlds  to 
see  God  in  truth  and  to  seek  truth  in  God ;  and 
then,  if  there  be  hinderances  in  our  pursuit  here, 
these  hinderances  shall  be  the  means  of  deep- 
ening in  our  souls  that  love  without  which  knowl- 
edge is  vain,  and  which  in  a  higher  state  of  being 
wdll  hold  to  knowledge  the  same  relation  which 
the  understanding  and  the  reason  hold  now,  will 
itself  be  an  apprehensive  faculty,  a  cognitive 
power,  foremost  among  the  interpreters  of  the 
divine  wisdom. 


212  TEE  DISCIPLINE   OF  LIFE. 

Another  often  uncomfortable  method  of  spir- 
itual discipline  consists  in  the  seemingly  excessive 
annoyance  and  mortification  occasioned  by  what 
we  account  as  slight  mistakes,  follies,  and  faults. 
In  the  vexation  and  discomfort  which  we  bring 
upon  ourselves  by  some  momentary  and  almost 
unconscious  deviation  from  the  fitting  and  the 
right,  we  often  have  an  impressive  practical  com- 
mentary on  the  text,  ''Behold,  how  great  a  matter 
a  little  fire  kindleth  !  "  But  in  these  experiences 
we  have  a  most  essential  and  blessed  part  of  our 
providential  education..  We  clearly  recognize  the 
wisdom  of  God's  method  of  reforming  great  sins, 
by  suffering  them  to  write  out  their  visible  record, 
to  do  their  manifest  work,  and  to  show  their  hei- 
nousness  in  the  revolting  types  of  outward  evil 
that  spring  from  them.  He  takes  the  same 
method  with  the  foibles  and  little  sins  of  the 
willing  and  docile  subjects  of  his  discipline,  only 
writinsr  the  record  of  these  minor  wrongs  in  macr- 
nified  characters,  that  they  may  draw  attention  and 
produce  a  change  of  conduct.  How  should  we  ever 
recognize  our  failures  and  faults,  did  they  not 
leave  these  vivid  traces  in  our  experience  ?  But 
by  this  instrumentality  we  are  often  led  to  take 
a  new  departure,  to  retrieve  false  steps,  to  form 
better  purposes,  to  watch  against  ambush  and 
surprise  in    our  spiritual  warfare.     We  thus   fall 


TEE  DISCIPLINE   OF  LIFE.  213 

only  to  rise  the  higher,  and  by  our  errors  and 
shortcomings  are  made  only  the  more  true  and 
pure,  God-serving  and  heaven-tending,  so  that  we 
are  constrained  to  own  with  devout  gratitude, 
"  Whom  the  Lord  loveth  he  chasteneth." 

Equally  is  Providence  educating  us  by  those 
trials  and  griefs  —  the  lighter  -and  the  heavier  — 
which  belong  to  our  condition  as  mortals.  But  it 
is  never  to  be  forgotten  that  the  ministry  of  afflic- 
tion is  wholly  contingent  on  our  receptivity.  The 
sands  of  the  desert  drink  in  the  spring-rains,  but 
are  not  fructified  by  them.  The  untilled  field 
returns  their  blessing  in  unsightly  and  noxious 
weeds.  But  in  the  prepared  soil  they  reappear  in 
growing  grain  and  swelling  fruit-buds,  the  prize 
of  faithful  toil,  the  hope  of  the  year;  and  those 
dreary,  chilly,  sunless  days  of  the  early  rain  are 
the  harbingers  of  all  that  is  bright,  beautiful,  and 
gladdening  in  garden,  field,  and  orchard.  Thus 
the  dews  and  rains  of  God's  afflictive  providence 
in  some  souls  are  absorbed  and  lost,  and  leave  no 
sign ;  others  they  sour,  or  madden,  or  hopelessly 
depress  ;  but  where  there  are  already  germs  of  the 
heavenly  Father's  planting,  they  quicken  growth, 
ftiey  create  inward  grace  and  beauty,  they  fi-uc- 
tify  all  peaceful  thouglits,  pure  desires,  and  holy 
aspirations,  they  ripen  the  harvest  whose  reapers 
are  the  angels.     Nor  are  they  without  their  min- 


214  THE  DISCIPLINE   OF  LIFE. 

istry,  even  of  joy.  There  are,  indeed,  types  of 
gladness  that  cannot  be  reproduced  after  a  first 
heavy  sorrow.  We  can  never  again  look  upon 
the  world  with  the  same  eyes.  There  are  void 
places  in  our  earthly  loves  that  must  remain  void 
while  we  stay  here.  But  there  is  a  profounder 
love  for  those  who  stay  with  us,  a  gentleness, 
tenderness,  sweetness  of  affection,  unknown  be- 
fore. Our  love  gains  by  loss,  grows  by  amputa- 
tion. Above  all,  there  is  a  more  vivid  sense  of 
heavenly  realities,  a  consciousness  of  unbroken 
union  with  those  that  seem  divided  from  us,  an 
intimacy  with  higher  fellowships  opened  for  us  by 
those  who  have  gone  from  us,  a  more  clinging 
sense  of  dependence  on  the  Infinite  Love,  and 
hence  a  joy  purer  and  loftier,  though  its  pris- 
tine buoyancy  be  for  ever  lost.  Especially  as  life 
wanes  and  the  shadows  lengthen,  may  the  treas- 
ures laid  up  in  heaven  give  us  a  familiar,  home- 
like feeling  as  to  the  mansion  where  they  shall  be 
ours  again,  and  the  very  hopes  whose  failure  cast 
a  cloud  over  earlier  years  may  thus  shed  over  our 
declining  days  a  genial  light  that  shall  grow 
brighter  and  brighter  till  it  is  merged  in  the  pure 
radiance  of  heaven.  *• 

But  not  only  through  these  sadder  ministries  is 
God's  providence  perfecting  that  which  concern- 
eth  us.     Equally,  though  it  is  a  truth  which  we 


THE  DISCIPLINE  OF  LIFE.  215 

are  not  wont  to  recognize,  is  all  that  is  mirthful 
and  gladdening  a  part  of  our  education  for  our 
immortal  being.  How  vast  is  our  receptivity  of 
gladness  !  How  kindly  the  necessity  —  not  only 
in  childoood  and  youth,  but  under  our  severest 
cares  and  labors,  and  even  under  the  burden  of 
many  years  —  of  recreation  and  pleasure  !  How 
blessed  the  inseparable  alternation  of  the  festive 
and  the  serious  aspects  and  experiences  of  life, 
and  the  influence  of  the  former  over  the  latter, 
so  that  the  fuller  our  draughts  of  joy,  the  greater 
is  our  power  of  persistent  duty,  labor,  and  endur- 
ance !  Mirth  is  in  itself  so  spontaneous,  so  pure, 
so  healthful,  fed  from  so  many  and  various 
sources  of  divine  benignity,  so  underlying  even 
the  rough  and  stony  and  dusty  ways  of  life, 
that  I  cannot  believe  it  earthly  in  its  scope 
and  destiny.  There  must  be  room  and  food 
for  it  in  every  stage  of  our  being.  Not  that 
I  would  leave  it  unhallowed  here ;  but  when 
most  hallowed,  it  is  not  suppressed,  nay,  rather  it 
is  then  most  enduring,  salient,  irrepressible.  The 
capacity  for  it  is  given,  that  it  may  be  hallowed, — 
that,  rejoicing  first  of  all  in  God,  we  may  take  in 
to  the  full  the  joy-giving  ministries  of  his  crea- 
tion and  his  providence,  and  may  feel  to  the 
utmost  the  genial  flow  of  his  everlasting  love. 
Let,  then,  our  glad  use  of  what  God  has  bestowed 


216  THE  DISCIPLINE   OF  LIFE, 

for  our  happiness  be  limited  only  by  tlie  work  that 
he  has  given  us  to  do ;  and  then  our  work  and  our 
play,  our  mirthful  and  our  serious  hours,  shall  bear 
equal  part  in  training  us  for  the  joy  of  the  divine 
presence  in  heaven,  and  for  the  service  that  shall 
only  enhance  the  perfectness  of  that  joy. 

Thus  by  his  various  discipline  is  God  perfecting 
that  which  concerneth  us,  giving  us  a  far  better 
education  than  we  could  plan  for  ourselves.  Let 
us  yield  ourselves  lovingly  to  the  training  of  his 
providence,  assured  that,  ordered  by  him,  all 
things  shall  work  together  for  our  good. 


MEASONS  FOR   UNBELIEF,  217 


XYin. 

REASONS    FOR    UNBELIEF. 
"0  thou  of  little  faith,  wherefore  didst  thou  doubt  ?"  —  Matt.  xiv.  31. 

T  NEED  not  tell  you  that  there  is  at  the  present 
moment  a  great  deal  of  scepticism  and  unbe- 
lief, not  only  as  to  Christianity,  but  as  to  those 
great  truths  that  lie  at  the  basis  of  all  religion.  I 
propose  now  to  examine  with  you  some  of  the 
sources  of  this  condition  of  mind,  that  I  may  help 
you  to  avoid  them. 

1.  Unbelief  frequently  results  from  the  very 
nature  of  religious  truths,  and  of  the  kinds  of  rea- 
soning on  which  belief  in  them  rests,  so  far  as  that 
belief  is  not  intuitive.  Mathematical  truth,  when 
once  proved,  admits  of  no  counter-argument,  and 
cannot  be  disbelieved  or  doubted  by  a  sane  man. 
He  who  should  deny  the  axioms  or  the  demon- 
strated propositions  of  geometry  would  be  deemed, 
not  a  poor  reasoner,  but  a  madman  or  an  idiot. 
With  moral  truth  the  case  is  entirely  different. 
The  Atheist,  the  Deist,  the  Rationalist,  may  be 
thought  to  reason  badly,  but  is  not  chargeable  with 
10 


218  REASONS  FOR   UNBELIEF. 

insanity  or  idiocy,  or  even  with  feebleness  of 
intellect.  There  is  no  proposition  in  the  realm  "of 
moral  and  religious  ideas  that  does  not  admit 
of  seemingly  strong  opposing  arguments.  We 
reach  a  rational  conclusion  on  such  subjects  by 
weighing  the  reasons  on  both  sides,  and  yielding 
to  what  appears  to  be  the  preponderance  of  argu- 
ment or  evidence.  Now  the  very  fact  that  relig- 
ious truths  admit  of  doubt  or  objection  is  the  cause 
of  a  great  deal  of  unbelief.  They  are  taught  to 
children,  like  truths  in  the  exact  sciences,  as  un- 
questioned and  unquestionable  verities ;  and  they 
ought  to  be  so  taught ;  for  there  is  hope  that  they 
may  take  strong  hold  on  the  child's  emotional 
nature,  and  inscribe  themselves  indelibly  on  his 
consciousness,  before  he  is  capable  of  understand- 
ing the  reasons  for  or  against  them.  But  if,  instead 
of  becoming  incorporated  with  his  whole  moral 
being  and  moulding  his  character,  they  are  merely 
deposited  in  the  memory,  the  discovery  that  there 
are  any  who  doubt  them  is  likely  of  itself  to  awaken 
doubt. 

Such  doubt  is  liable  to  be  confirmed  and  pro- 
longed by  the  very  feebleness  and  shallowness  of 
the  reasons  that  sustain  it.  The  objections  to  the 
truths  of  religion  are  for  the  most  part  super- 
ficial ;  and  because  they  lie  on  the  surface,  and  are 
easily  grasped  —  Avhile  the  affirmative  reasons  are 


REASONS  FOR   UNBELIEF,  219 

profouncler  and  therefore  demand  more  careful 
consideration  —  they  frequently  get  and  keep  pos- 
session of  minds  that  are  not  sufficiently  interested 
in  the  subject,  or  of  a  sufficiently  serious  habit,  to 
take  cognizance  of  the  affirmative  arguments. 

It  must  also  be  admitted  that  a  large  proportion 
of  the  doubts  raised  by  the  sceptic  are  unanswer- 
able, that  many  of  the  difficulties  in  the  way  of  relig- 
ious belief  are  unsolvable,  because  the  materials  for 
constructing  their  refutation  lie  beyond  our  knowl- 
edge. They  are  to  be  overborne  or  outweighed, 
not  answered  or  solved.  We  who  have  devoted 
our  whole  lives  to  these  themes  often  find  our- 
selves unable  to  give  a  direct  answer  to  the  sceptic 
or  the  unbeliever;  but  we  think  that  we  can  always 
show  him  that  immeasurably  greater  difficulties  and 
more  perplexing  doubts  rest  against  the  negative 
than  against  the  affirmative  answer  to  these  mo- 
mentous questions.  Let  me  illustrate  the  state  of 
the  case  by  one  or  two  obvious  examples. 

Take,  first,  the  fundamental  truth  of  natural  and 
revealed  religion,  "  God  is  love."  Who  can  solve, 
in  accordance  with  this  truth,  the  complex  prob- 
lems presented  by  the  existence  of  phj^sical  and 
moral  evil,  —  the  former  often  unmerited,  the  latter 
often  hereditary,  and  thus  in  a  great  measure  in- 
voluntary,—  evil,  too,  which  in  this  world  serves  no 
visible  purpose,  and  has  no  visible  offset  or  com- 


220       REASONS  FOR    UNBELIEF, 

pensation,  — evil  without  earthly  remedy  or  hope  ? 
Of  this  whole  night-side  of  the  divine  providence 
the  wisest  can  give  only  tentative,  partial,  approx- 
imate solutions,  which  always  resolve  themselves 
into  St.  Paul's  exclamation,  "  How  unsearchable 
are  his  judgments,  and  his  ways  past  finding  out!  " 
But  these  things  do  not  disturb  our  faith,  when 
we  consider  the  immense  preponderance  of  benef- 
icent plan,  provision,  causation,  and  issue  in  the 
divine  government,  the  boundless  profusion  of 
munificent  love  in  all  nature,  being,  and  experi- 
ence, and  the  eternal  life  in  which  there  is  ample 
scope  for  evil  to  merge  itself  in  good,  for  the  very 
"  wrath  of  man  "  to  redound  to  the  praise  of  God, 
and  for  sin  —  overcome  and  destroyed  —  to  mani- 
fest in  its  history  the  wisdom,  and  in  its  extinction 
the  invincible  might,  of  redeeming  mercy.  Wh,en 
we  take  these  things  into  the  account,  we  find 
that  the  difficulties  attending  the  denial  of  the 
divine  love  are  beyond  all  comparison  greater  than 
those  which  lie  in  the  fatherly  goodness  and  be- 
nign providence  of  God,  as  taught  by  Christ  and  in 
the  Christian  Scriptures. 

To  take  another  instance,  the  infidelity  of  our 
time  abounds  in  cavils  and  sneers  against  the 
marvellous  facts  in  the  history  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment ;  and  were  we  to  view  them  simply  as  abnor- 
mal facts  interpolated  in  the  order  of  nature,  we 


BEASONS  FOR   UNBELIEF.  221 

should  find  it  exceedingly  difficult  to  account  for 
them.  No  wonder  is  it  that  in  the  light  in  which 
they  are  often  presented,  they  are,  to  not  a  few, 
insuperable  obstacles  in  the  way  of  faith.  But 
when,  entering  into  the  heart  of  Christ,  we  be- 
come ''filled  with  his  fulness,"  and  find  these 
wonderful  events  inextricably  interwoven  with 
the  divine  beauty  and  glory  of  his  life,  pervaded 
by  his  spirit,  recognized  in  his  sublimest  utter- 
ances, illustrating  his  character,  opening  ever 
deeper  views  of  the  perfect  Providence  and  the 
eternal  life  which  he  taught  and  manifested,  so 
identified  with  his  whole  being,  mission,  teach- 
ings, and  activity,  that  to  separate  them  from  him 
is  to  extinguish  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  in  our 
hearts,  to  dethrone  him  whom  we  cannot  but  own 
as  our  Lord,  and  to  mutilate  the  charter  of  our 
forgiveness  and  hope,  —  then  these  narratives  are 
cleared  in  our  minds  from  all  cavils  and  objec- 
tions, and  become  objects  of  our  undoubting  and 
rejoicing  faith.  While  we  see  strong  reasons  for 
calling  them  in  question,  we  find  insurmountable 
difficulties  in  rejecting  them. 

Let  me  sum  up  in  a  few  words  what  I  would 
say  on  this  head  to  those  who  are  exposed  to  the 
assaults  of  infidelity.  Expect  to  find  objections  to 
any  and  every  statement  of  moral  and  religious 
truth  or  fact;   for  the  possibility  of  objection  is 


222       REASONS  FOR   UNBELIEF. 

inherent  in  the  subjects  themselves,  and  the  will  is 
never  wanting.  If  that  which  is  called  in  ques- 
tion is  really  truth  or  fact,  the  objections  to  it  will 
be  superficial,  therefore  plausible,  obtrusive,  easily 
urged,  capable  of  being  handled  adroitly  by  men 
of  the  shallowest  minds.  If  it  is  truth  or  fact,  the 
objections  will  probably  be  founded  on  the  essen- 
tial and  invincible  ignorance  that  belongs  to  our 
human  and  mortal  condition,  —  precisely  such  ob- 
jections as  exist  and  might  be  urged  with  equal 
force  against  unnumbered  facts,  laws,  and  pro- 
cesses of  nature,  which  we  believe,  yet  cannot 
account  for.  If  it  is  truth  or  fact,  the  objections 
will  lose  their  plausibility  and  seeming  weight, 
when  from  the  surface  you  begin  to  penetrate 
the  heart  of  things,  and  to  consider  seriously  the 
affirmative  evidence  on  which  the  faith  of  the 
wisest  and  best  men  in  all  the  Christian  ages  has 
reposed. 

Our  age  —  let  me  add  —  with  all  its  preten- 
sions, has  made  no  new  contributions  to  the  cause 
of  unbelief.  The  arofuments  now  rife  ag^ainst  the 
truths  of  natural  religion  are  as  old  as  Lucretius  ; 
those  against  Christianity  have  a  strong  flavor  of 
venerable  antiquity.  The  forge-fires  in  the  ar- 
mory of  infidelity  were  extinguished  centuries 
ago.  All  that  is  done  now  is  the  furbishing  of 
weapons  that  have  been  employed  over  and  over 


EEASONS  FOR   UNBELIEF.  223 

acrain.  All  the  missiles  of  unbelief  have  been 
bent  and  blunted  by  the  shield  of  faith ;  all  its 
defensive  armor  has  been  riddled  through  and 
through  by  the  sword  of  the  Spirit.  Intelligent 
believers  are  believers,  not  because  they  ignore 
opposing  arguments,  but  because  they  have  meas- 
ured weapons  with  their  antagonists,  because  they 
have  not  shunned  the  thickest  of  the  fight, — 
many  of  them,  because  they  have  passed  through 
various  phases  of  doubt  and  unbehef,  and  have 
persevered  in  their  search  after  truth,  till  they 
found  it  in  Christ  and  his  gospel.  I  feel  confident 
that  such  will  be  the  result  with  the  inquirer  who 
is  both  honest  and  persevering.  Our  religion 
seeks  the  light,  challenges  investigation,  invites 
free  thought,  and  suffers  more  than  from  all  else 
from  the  indifference  or  timidity  which  refuses  to 
examine  its  indestructible  foundations,  and  the 
indubitable  proof  that  they  were  laid  by  the  hand 
that  built  the  earth  and  spread  the  heavens. 

2.  Infidelity,  in  the  next  place,  sometimes  has 
its  cause  in  the  sluggishness  and  apathy  of  the 
moral  nature.  A  man  who  has  no  care  for  his 
future,  no  desire  for  an  advanced  standard  of 
excellence,  no  sensitiveness  to  his  imperfections, 
no  higher  aim  than  to  lead  an  easy  life  from  day 
to  day,  and  to  secure  the  maximum  of  physical 
enjoyment,  or    popularity,  or  gain,  cannot  bring 


224  SEASONS  FOR   UNBELIEF, 

his  mind  to  bear  upon  the  great  themes  of  Chris- 
tian faith.  He  has  no  desires  of  the  kind  which 
the  gospel  professes  to  satisfy,  no  thirst  for  the 
living  water  which  Jesus  proffers ;  and  no  wonder 
is  it  that  he  holds  up  as  a  shield  against  the  seri- 
ous thoughts  that  might  disturb  his  plans  of  life 
any  objection,  however  superficial,  that  may  be 
casually  suggested.  No  wonder  is  it  that  he  wel- 
comes any  justification  of  his  grovelling  world- 
liness  at  the  expense  of  the  religion  which 
condemns  it.  But  there  are  solemn  questions 
which  ought  to  press  on  every  mind,  and  on  none 
so  urgently  as  on  those  in  early  life,  who  may 
now,  if  the}^  will,  build  their  characters  on  a  sure 
foundation,  but  in  future  years  will  find  it  hard  or 
impossible  to  insert  a  new  foundation  beneath  the 
massive  life-structure  erected  on  the  sand.  You 
have,  my  friend,  a  definite  position  as  a  moral  being. 
What  is  that  position  ?  Are  you  accountable  ?  If 
so,  to  whom  ?  Have  you  duties  ?  If  so,  to  whom 
are  they  due  ?  You  must  die  ;  you  may  die  soon. 
Is  there  a  life  after  death  ?  If  there  be,  are 
you  prepared  for  it  ?  Are  you  willing  to  trust 
yourself  as  you  are  to  the  unknown  future  ?  If 
there  be  another  life,  have  you  the  character 
which  you  are  wilUng  to  take  into  that  life  ? 
If  you  were  consciously  on  the  margin  of  the 
death-river,  are  you  ready  for  the  plunge  ?     You 


liEASONS  FOR    UNBELIEF.  225 

cannot  hold  communion  with  j^our  own  soul  with- 
out asking  these  questions.  There  is  within  you  a 
native  religion,  every  article  of  which  is  pointed 
with  an  interrogation-mark.  But  the  answers  are 
not  within  you.  If  you  ask  these  questions,  you 
must  look  for  answers,  and  you  find  them  only 
in  the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ.  There  you  have 
an  affirmative  religion,  corresponding  throughout 
with  the  interrogative  religion  of  your  own  soul, 
the  one  the  counterpart  of  the  other,  showing  by 
this  minute  and  perfect  mutual  adaptation  that 
they  both  come  from  the  same  hand,  —  that  the 
gospel  emanates  from  the  Author  of  your  being. 
Let  me  earnestly  beseech  you  to  ask  these  mo- 
mentous questions ;  and  I  know  that  instead  of 
turning  away  from  Jesus,  you  will  say  with  your 
whole  heart,  "  Lord,  to  whom  shall  I  go  ?  Thou, 
and  thou  alone,  hast  the  words  of  eternal  life." 

3.  There  is  yet  to  be  named  another  —  I  fear, 
not  an  infrequent  —  cause  of  infidelity  ;  namely, 
what  is  tcj^med  by  one  of  the  sacred  writers  "  an  evil 
heart  of  unbelief."  When  one  is  forming  vicious 
habits,  has  fallen  into  dangerous  associations  from 
which  he  has  not  the  energy  to  cut  himself  loose, 
has  permitted  himself  to  be  swept  into  a  current 
of  demoralizing  influence  which  he  lacks  courage 
to  stem,  —  so  long  as  he  retains  the  religious  be- 
lief of  his  childhood,  he  suffers  chronic  torture. 
10*  o 


226  SEASONS  FOR   UNBELIEF. 


He  feels  that  he  is  under  the  ban  of  a  righteous 
God,  —  that  he  is  incurring  the  most  fearful  sen- 
tences of  condemnation  written  in  the  divine  word, 
—  that  he  is  enrolling  himself  among  those  for 
whom  even  the  loving  Saviour  predicts  nothing 
but  misery,  and  whom  he,  Avith  all  his  gentleness, 
denounces  as  aliens  from  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 
There  have  been  those  who,  in  later  life  or  on  the 
death-bed,  in  godly  penitence  or  in  hopeless  re- 
morse, have  acknowledged  that  for  months  and 
years  they  bore  about  on  a  career  of  profligacy 
this  unresting  torment,  this  very  hell  upon  earth, 
in  consequence  of  their  unremoved  faith  in  the 
records  of  divine  revelation.  No  marvel  is  it  that 
such  a  one  hails  with  delight  the  first  visitings 
or  suggestions  of  scepticism,  drinks  in  with  a 
greedy  ear  cavils  and  sneers  often  more  potent 
than  arguments,  and,  as  his  religious  belief  falls 
away,  feels  as  if  chains  w^ere  dropping  from  his 
limbs,  and  he  were  taking  his  first  invigorating 
breath  after  long  imprisonment. 

Thus  it  is  that  you  find  what  is  commonly  called 
free-thinking,  and  what  is  by  a  most  audacious 
misnomer  termed  free-living  —  it  is  the  most  slav- 
ish life  that  one  can  lead  —  closely  conjoined  ;  and 
it  is  in  the  very  circles  where  the  restraints  of 
scrupulous  morality  have  no  hold  that  Christianity 
is  most  sure  to  be  treated  with  ridicule,  contempt, 


BEASONS  FOR    UNBELIEF.  227 

and  scorn.  Infidelity  and  vice  are  loving  sisters, 
purvey  for  each  other,  work  best  together;  and 
whichever  of  the  two  gets  the  first  hold  of  a  dupe, 
she  never  feels  sure  of  keeping  him  till  the  other 
has  him  also. 

But,  my  friend,  if  you  have  taken  your  first 
departure  from  soberness,  purity,  and  Christian 
virtue,  if  you  have  entered  on  the  way  of  trans- 
gressors, and  find  yourself  tormented  there  by 
thoughts  of  God  and  Christ  and  the  eternal  judg- 
ment, oh,  cling  to  these  thoughts,  though  they  be 
agonizing.  Let  them  rend  and  lacerate  your  soul ; 
for  they  may  —  cherished,  they  will  —  emancipate 
you,  —  will  bring  you  out  from  the  bondage  of 
sin  into  the  freedom  of  the  city  of  God.  But  let 
them  yield  to  unbelief,  —  the  quiet  that  will  ensue 
is  a  death-slumber,  from  which  you  may  awake 
only  to  find  yourself  in  your  own  place,  at  the  left 
hand  of  the  righteous  Judge. 

My  friends,  let  me  urge  this  subject  upon  your 
most  serious  thought.  In  the  cavils  which  some 
of  you  are  perhaps  over-ready  to  entertain,  in  the 
loose  notions  to  which  you  perhaps  accord,  and  for 
which  you  claim  the  hospitality  of  an  open  ear 
and  an  indulgent  heart,  you  are  preparing  deeper 
shadows  for  the  dark  days  that  may  be  before  you, 
and  planting  thorns  in  your  death-pillows  ;  while 
faith  in  God  as  your  Father,  in  his  law  as  immu- 


228       REASONS  FOR   UNBELIEF. 

table  and  inevitable,  in  Jesus  Christ  as  a  divine 
Teacher,  a  sure  Guide,  an  all-sufficient  Saviour,  in 
heaven  and  the  life  everlasting  as  the  goal  and 
destiny  of  a  worthy  life  on  earth,  in  fine.  Chris- 
tian faith,  is  God's  best  gift,  and  man's  most 
precious  attainment. 


TEE  EOLY  SPIRIT,  229 


XIX. 

THE   HOLY   SPIRIT. 

("WHITSUNDAY.) 

"The  Eohj  Spirit."  —  'Luke  xi.  13. 

^  I  ^HIS  is  the  anniversary  of  the  day  of  Pente- 
cost,  called  Whitsunday,  from  the  white 
robes  of  the  newly  baptized  catechumens  who 
used  formerly  to  be  then  received  to  their  first 
communion.  I  doubt  whether  we  know  precisely 
what  took  place  on  that  day.  Yet  perhaps  we 
know  as  much  as  the  persons  present  could  clearly 
recall  and  tell ;  for  it  is  often  those  who  are  most 
immediately  involved  in  a  rapid  series  of  remark- 
able and  exciting  incidents,  who  are  least  able  to 
define  them  with  precision,  and  this  may  be  the 
reason  why  the  author  of  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles, 
whose  circumstantial  minuteness  indicates  his  ac- 
curacy and  honesty  as  an  historian,  has  left  some 
points  in  this  particular  narrative  less  distinct  and 
intelligible  than  we  might  desire.  But  this  we 
learn,  —  that  there   occurred  external  phenomena 


230  THE  HOLY  SPIRIT. 

which  filled  a  large  number  of  persons  with  amaze- 
ment, secured  for  the  name  and  cause  of  the  late 
crucified  Jesus  a  sudden  accession  of  honor  and 
influence,  and  multiplied  his  disciples  more  than 
twenty-fold.  This,  too,  we  learn,  that  on  the  same 
day  the  primitive  disciples  found  themselves  pos- 
sessed of  a  zeal  for  the  truth,  a  love  of  God  and 
man,  and  a  spiritual  might,  which  never  left  them 
afterward,  so  that  for  them  the  Pentecost  was  the 
beginning  of  a  new  and  momentous  epoch  in  their 
lives. 

Ilirach  is  not  of  right  a  Scriptural  word.  The 
word  so  rendered  denotes  si^n,  token,  or  mdication, 
A  miracle  is  a  mere  wonder,  and  there  are  as  many 
of  them  around  us  this  mornins^  as  there  are  bios- 
soms  on  the  trees,  A  sign  refers  to  the  thing 
signified,  and  thus  has  a  definite  purpose  and 
meaning.  It  is  not  as  mere  marvels,  nor  even  as 
testimonies  and  credentials,  that  the  signs  recorded 
in  the  early  Christian  history  have  their  chief 
value.  They  are  revelations.  They  lift  the  veil 
behind  which  God  works;  and  though  the  veil 
be  parted  but  for  a  moment,  it  remains  translu- 
cent ever  after.  What  God  did  visibly  through 
Christ,  he  does  invisibly,  but  no  less  really,  in  all 
""time  and  among  all  men.  So  here,  the  external 
manifestations  of  the  day  of  Pentecost  were  but 
signs  and  revealings  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  no  less 


THE  HOLY  SPIRIT,  231 

really  with  us  to-day  than  with  the  apostles  then, 
—  no  less  ready,  if  we  will  listen  to  it  and  obey 
it,  to  strengthen  us  for  our  appointed  life-work 
than  it  was  to  energize  them  for  their  work.  As 
at  Christmas  we  celebrate,  not  an  infant's  birth, 
but  a  life  which  throbs  new-born  every  day  in 
every  Christian  heart ;  as  at  Easter  we  commem- 
orate not  one  resurrection,  but  the  resurrection 
of  all  men,  of  which  that  one  is  the  type  and 
pledge :  so  at  the  Pentecost  we  offer  our  praise 
and  thanksgiving,  not  for  the  descent  of  a  Holy 
Spirit  never  known  before,  and  now  known  only 
in  history,  but  for  the  revelation,  by  visible  and 
audible  tokens,  of  God's  eternal  and  ever-working 
Spirit. 

In  the  Greek  of  the  New  Testament,  as  many 
of  you  know,  the  word  rendered  siyirlt  is  the  word 
constantly  employed  to  denote  wind  ;  and  the  idea 
which  it  suggests  is  that  of  an  influence  in  the 
realm  of  souls  corresponding  to  the  wind  in  the 
material  world,  subtle,  untraceable,  yet  every- 
where felt,  all-penetrating,  all-^^owerful,  —  with 
a  diversity  of  operations,  too ;  now  a  whispering 
breeze,  then  an  air-torrent,  —  now  breathing  in 
calm  contemplation,  then  inspiring  a  might  before 
which  the  powers  of  evil  are  scattered  and  bro- 
ken. 

Do  you  ask  in  what  this  Spirit  is  ?     Ask,  rather, 


232  TEE  HOLT  SPIRIT. 

in  wliat  it  is  not.  But  we  may,  perhaps,  best  com- 
preliencl  it  by  its  analogue  in  man.  We  all  recog- 
nize, over  and  above  Avhat  a  man  says  and  does,  a 
pervading  spirit,  an  aura,  a  perpetual  emanation  as 
it  were,  which  gives  him  the  greater  part  of  his  in- 
fluence. One  man  may  say  and  do  nothing  that  you 
can  blame  ;  yet  his  presence  gives  you  no  inspira- 
tion, no  help,  —  you  feel  no  better,  no  stronger, 
for  it ;  nay,  there  may  be  from  him  an  outgoing  of 
even  a  deleterious  influence,  a  blighting  wind  on 
the  plants  of  grace.  Another  man  may  say  and 
do  only  common  things  ;  yet  somehow  there  play 
around  him  breezes  from  heaven,  —  we  feel  in  his 
society  a  fresh  and  pure  spiritual  atmosphere,  and 
all  that  is  good  in  us  is  quickened  and  gladdened 
by  his  presence.  It  is  not  by  word  or  deed  that 
we  exercise  the  most  power  over  one  another ;  but 
even  in  words  and  deeds  of  the  least  inherent  sig- 
nificance one  works  on  those  around  him  with  the 
whole  force  of  his  character.  The  receptivity  of 
such  influence  is  contingent  on  the  degree  of  inti- 
macy. In  like  manner,  God's  Spirit  breathes  in 
every  form  of  his  presence  ;  but  our  receptivity  of 
it  depends  on  the  more  or  less  intimate  relation  in 
which  we  place  ourselves  with  him.  These  truths 
let  us  consider. 

There  is  a  Holy  Spirit  in  nature.     Far  be  from 
us  the  theology  which  relegates  creation  to  the 


THE  HOLY  SPIRIT.  233 

mytliical  past.  God  as  truly  creates,  as  he  cre- 
ated, the  heavens  and  the  earth.  His  perpetual 
fiat,  his  sustaining  and  renovating  energy,  his 
incorruptible  spirit,  is  in  all  things.  Heart-com- 
munion with  nature  intenerates,  refines,  ennobles 
character.  But  why  ?  Not  because  in  the  mere 
lifeless  forms  or  unreasoning  tribes  of  nature  there 
is  any  power  over  man;  but  because  the  imma- 
nent God  makes  himself  felt  through  all  his 
works,  in  glory,  in  beauty,  in  order,  in  har- 
mony, in  transparent  purity,  in  diffusive  love. 
It  is  spiritual  traits,  which,  though  exhibited  in 
lifeless  forms,  can  be  inherent  only  in  a  living 
spirit,  that  we  take  into  our  souls,  and  that  stir 
within  us  pure  affections,  aims,  aspirations,  renew- 
ing our  better  selves,  and  sending  us  to  our  duty 
with  hearts  attuned  to  it,  and  with  thoughts  of  joy 
and  gratitude.  This  is  why  nature  seems  ever 
new.  It  really  is  ever  new,  as  our  prayer  this 
morning,  if  fervent,  is  new,  though  we  may  have 
prayed  in  the  same  words  a  hundred  times  before. 
This  is  the  reason,  too,  why  the  self-same  forms  of 
nature,  as  we  call  them,  grow  upon  us,  if  our 
souls  grow ;  why  many  of  us  feel  every  year  as  if 
the  spring,  the  summer,  the  autumn,  were  never 
so  beautiful  before.  Our  eyes  take  in  no  more 
than  they  did  years  and  years  ago  ;  but  if  we 
have  grown  in  spirit,  our  souls  can  tliis  year  take 


234  THE  HOLY  SPIRIT. 

in  from  the  same  scenes  more  of  the  Divine 
Spirit  that  is  in  them  than  they  ever  took  in  be- 
fore, because  their  receptivity  is  enhanced.  The 
well  is  no  fuller ;  but  we  have  larger  vessels 
wherewith  to  draw  from  it. 

God's  Spirit  is  also  in  his  providence,  and  in 
our  whole  experience  of  life.  In  blessings  un- 
measured and  unnumbered  he  is  revealing  to  us 
his  love,  —  comiug  forth,  like  the  father  in  the 
parable,  to  meet  his  child  with  the  kiss  of  peace 
and  the  ring  of  reconciliation.  From  the  crowded 
mercies  of  this  very  morning  there  comes  to  us 
the  voice,  "  Lift  up  your  hearts."  Oh  that  there 
might  go  forth  from  each  of  us  the  old  church- 
response,  ''  We  lift  them  up  unto  the  Lord  " !  Yet 
other  voices  of  God  come  to  us  in  these  blessings. 
They  all  bear  designations  of  their  uses  in  their 
intrinsic  fitnesses ;  and  the}'"  are  so  ordered  and 
distributed  that  they  may  help  us  in  the  attain- 
ment of  inward  virtues  and  graces,  which  shall 
demand  still  warmer  thanks  and  more  fervent 
praise. 

Then,  too,  when  sorrow  comes,  it  comes  with  so 
gentle  preparation,  Avith  so  many  open  sources  of 
rehef  and  comfort,  with  so  many  remaining  bless- 
ings not  only  untouched,  but  made  more  precious, 
that  in  the  deepest  grief  our  gratitude  may  even 
abound   the   more ;  and   if    we  have  been  remiss 


THE  HOLY  SPIRIT.  235 

in  devotion  while  every  thing  was  bright  around 
us,  the  cry  of  the  afflicted  spirit  is  not,  "  All  these 
things  are  against  me,"  but  rather,  ''  Return  unto 
thy  rest,  O  my  soul,  for  the  Lord  hath  dealt  boun- 
tifully with  thee." 

I  cannot  conceive  of  a  calm  retrospect  upon  any 
extended  portion  of  life,  without  its  clearly  reveal- 
ing a  guiding,  educating  providence,  a  teaching, 
admonishing,  loving  spirit,  an  ordering  of  outward 
events  for  the  purity,  growth,  and  strength  of  the 
inner  man.  It  is,  indeed,  a  spirit  which  we  may 
resist,  grieve,  quench.  But  the  receptive  soul 
sees  God  no  less  in  its  own  experience  than  in 
sun,  cloud,  and  ocean,  and  day  by  day  reads  in 
the  course  of  the  divine  providence  the  Father's 
specific  command,  loving  purpose,  and.  benignant 
ministr3^ 

The  Holy  Spirit  of  God  is  in  all  the  pure  lives, 
good  examples,  and  beneficent  human  influences 
that  are  around  us.  The  spirit  which  goes  forth 
in  kindly  ministrations  from  man  to  man,  in  the 
loving  words,  timely  counsels,  and  sacred  sympa- 
thies that  energize  and  gladden  us,  comes  from 
the  Father ;  and  it  is  the  very  essence  of  his  best 
gifts  to  the  individual  soul,  that  he  who  receives 
them  cannot  but  impart  them;  nay,  that  their 
bestowal  by  him  is  contingent  on  their  free  be- 
stowal upon  others. 


236  THE  HOLY  SPIRIT. 

"  Ceasing  to  give,  we  cease  to  have,  — 
Such  is  the  law  of  love." 

The  Holy  Spirit  is  in  Jesus  Christ.  The  old 
liturgical  formula,  "  The  Holy  Spirit,  proceecUug 
from  the  Father  and  the  Son,"  is  not  the  mere 
dogma  of  a  creed,  but  the  fundamental  truth  of 
the  Christian  life.  In  Jesus  we  have  imaged,  as 
nowhere  else,  for  our  clear  apprehension,  the 
holiness,  the  spiritual  beauty  and  loveliness,  the 
fatherhood  of  God  ;  and  in  all  that  we  admire  in 
his  character,  in  all  that  we  imbibe  from  it  and 
reproduce  in  our  own  lives,  we  are  seeing  the  Fa- 
ther in  the  Son,  and  growing  into  the  resplendent 
image  we  behold,  —  making  ourselves  followers  of 
God  as  dear  children,  and  becoming  partakers  of 
the  divine  nature. 

But  this  is  not  all.  Between  human  beings 
presence  is  communion.  Without  word  or  act, 
influence,  clearly  felt  and  recognized,  goes  forth 
from  one  to  the  other,  especially  from  the  more 
powerful  spirit  of  the  two,  if  the  weaker  be  con- 
fiding and  loving,  so  that  a  revered  and  cherished 
presence  is  always  felt  to  be  a  power.  Thus  must 
it  of  necessity  be  with  the  divine  presence  ;  and  so 
have  all  felt  it  who  desire  so  to  feel  it.  That 
presence,  which  is  nowhere  inert  and  otiose  in 
outward  nature,  can  least  of  all  be  so  in  the  realm 
of  living  souls.     The  walls  of    the  body  can  no 


THE  HOLT  SPIRIT.  237 

more  shut  out  the  Spirit  of  God  than  can  our 
walls  of  brick  and  stone  shut  out  the  ever- 
moving  air  which  is  its  symbol.  Why  should  we 
look  elsewhere  for  thoughts  and  movements  of 
spirit  —  worthy  of  God  —  whose  source  we  cannot 
readily  trace  by  the  laws  of  suggestion  or  associa- 
tion? That  he  should  exert  this  influence  is  so 
entirely  natural,  that  it  needs  not  to  be  proved  or 
accounted  for.  The  absence  of  such  influence  is 
only  less  incredible  than  atheism.  Accordingly, 
not  under  Christian  auspices  alone^  but  in  every 
form  and  at  every  grade  of  religious  culture,  Avise 
men  have  believed,  good  men  have  owned,  the 
influence  of  a  divine  spirit  in  the  soul  of  man ; 
and  from  Plato,  Plutarch,  Epictetus,  Marcus  An- 
toninus, might  be  quoted  such  earnest,  devout,  and 
loving  utterances  of  this  assurance  as,  were  they 
found  in  the  writings  of  Christian  saints,  would 
be  ridiculed  and  scoffed  at  by  the  Sadducees  of 
our  time,  while  they  would  be  accepted  by  believ- 
ing souls  as  the  prophecy  of  their  own  richest 
experience. 

What  though  we  are  not  always  able  to  dis- 
criminate between  the  divine  influence  and  the 
action  of  our  own  minds  ?  Does  this  cast  doubt 
on  the  reality  of  the  former  ?  Can  we  alwaj's 
discriminate  between  what  we  do  in  and  of 
ourselves   and   what  —  though  it  be   through  the 


238  THE  HOLY  SPIRIT. 

agency  of  our  own  will  —  others  do  with  and  in 
us  ?  How  many  wrongs  and  sins  there  are, 
which,  though  the  doer  by  the  consent  of  his  will 
makes  himself  guilty,  are  yet  really  the  work  of 
an  evil  spirit  mightier  than  his  own !  On  the  other 
hand,  who  can  say  how  large  a  part  in  the  life  of 
a  person  of  singular  excellence,  though  it  be  all 
his  own,  may  not  really  be  the  work  of  some  spirit 
stronger  than  liis,  without  whose  coworking  and 
in  working  he  would  never  have  been  what  he  is? 
Yet  in -these  cases  it  is  impossible  to  distinguish 
between  self-born  and  suggested  thoughts,  feel- 
ings, and  purposes ;  nor  is  the  impossibility  of 
marking  and  labelling  with  precision  the  incom- 
ings of  the  Divine  Spirit  any  more  a  ground  for 
scepticism  as  to  the  influence  of  that  Spirit,  than 
is  the  like  impossibility  as  to  human  influence 
a  reason  for  doubting  the  reality  of  that  influ- 
ence. 

My  friends,  if  this  divine  influence,  this  Holy 
Spirit,  be  not  a  mere  dogma,  but  a  vital  and  pres- 
ent reality,  it  belongs  to  us  to  seek  it,  to  prepare 
for  it,  to  welcome  it.  We  may  so  occlude  our 
hearts,  that  even  the  penetrating  Spirit  of  God 
shall  not  find  free  entrance  there.  We  may  so 
make  read}^  for  it  the  guest-chamber  in  the  soul, 
so  woo  its  visitings  by  the  prayer  of  faith  and 
love,  so  seal  its  welcome  by  doing  as  the  Spirit 


THE  HOLY  SPIRIT.  239 

bids,  that  its  home  shall  be  ever  Avithin  us,  and 
that  the  formula  for  our  lives,  as  for  tliat  of  the 
great  apostle,  shall  be,  "Yet  not  I,  but  the  grace 
of  God  which  is  with  me.'* 


240  CLEAN  WAYS. 


XX. 

CLEAN  WAYS. 

*'  Wherewith  shall  a  young  man  cleanse  his  I'jay  ?   By  talcing  heed  thereto 
according  to  thy  word.''  —  Psalm  cxix.  9. 

"l^rOTHING  is  more  characteristic  of  the  He- 
brew  literature  than  the  aptness  and  the 
intense  force  of  its  metaphors,  which  underlie  the 
whole  life  of  the  people,  and  make  almost  every 
object  and  experience  the  tj'pe  of  something  spirit- 
ual. These  figures  have  become  so  familiar  to  our 
ears  that  we  are  hardly  aware  that  they  are  used, 
and  yet  many  of  them,  heard  for  the  first  time, 
would  impress  us  so  strongly  as  to  change  the 
whole  current  of  thought,  feeling,  and  conduct. 
There  are  three  such  figures  in  the  text  just  read, 
and  could  I  make  you  feel  their  full  significance,  I 
could  ask,  as  your  friend,  to  j)erform  for  you  no 
better  office,  and  you  would  be  thankful  through 
your  whole  coming  lives  for  this  verse  of  the  psalm, 
which,  I  have  no  doubt,  has  been  so  often  repeated 
in  the  hearing  of  some  of  you  as  to  have  lost  all 
the  meaning  it  ever  had  for  you.  Let  us  try  to 
recall  what  it  contains. 


CLEAN  WATS.  241 

I  would  first  ask  your  attention  to  the  word  way, 
*' Wherewith  shall  a  young  man  cleanse  his  wayf'' 
A  way  has  a  direction,  and  leads  somewhither.  A 
way  is  continuous,  and  if  we  are  in  it,  we  are  ad- 
vancing in  it.  A  way  differs  in  its  direction  from 
other  wa3^s,  and  diverges  more  and  more  from  them 
the  farther  one  travels  upon  it.  There  is  hardly 
any  error  so  perilous  as  that  of  imagining  that  there 
can  be  isolated  acts  or  states  of  mind.  Every 
present  has  its  closely  affiliated  future.  Every 
deed,  every  reverie,  every  thought,  is  a  cause.  We 
are  moving  on  in  character,  as  in  years.  We  are 
not  to-day  what  we  were  a  week  ago.  Has  the 
past  week  been  consecrated  by  prayer,  by  faithful 
duty,  by  evil  spurned  and  temptation  resisted,  — 
we  have  made  a  full  week's  journey  heavenward. 
Has  the  past  week  been  one  of  scanted  work,  of 
neglected  duty,  of  forbidden  indulgence, — it  is  not 
merely  a  week  wasted,  but  a  week  of  progress  in 
evil,  and  this  morning  finds  us  less  inclined  to  the 
right,  more  propense  to  the  wrong,  less  our  own 
masters,  an  easier  prey  to  bad  example  or  malign 
influence,  than  we  were  a  week  ago.  There  are  in 
our  lives  no  isolated  acts,  but  only  ways.  The 
wrong  of  which  you  say,  "  Only  this  once,  and  it 
shall  never  be  repeated,"  provokes  its  own  repeti- 
tion,—  starts  you  in  its  own  direction.  The  viola- 
tion of  truth  or  integrity,  with  the  expectation  and 
11  p 


242  CLEAN  WAYS, 

purpose  of  retrieving  it  speedily,  involves  you  in 
a  labyrinth  of  mole-paths,  in  which  you  lose  your 
way,  and  may  never  find  your  way  back.  The 
laws  of  sobriety  or  purity  once  transgressed,  j^oa 
have  not  the  power  which  you  previously  thought 
you  had  to  retrace  your  steps.  You  meant  an  act; 
you  have  found  it  a  way,  —  a  precipitous  way,  too, 
on  which  you  gain  momentum  with  every  step. 

Let  me  beg  you,  then,  to  see  whither  you  are 
going,  Avhither  your  way  leads.  Start  not  in  a 
direction  which  you  are  not  willing  to  follow  to 
the  end.  Take  not  your  first  step  on  any  evil 
way,  unless  you  are  ready  to  encounter  the  dis- 
honor, degradation,  misery,  and  ruin  which  have 
visibly  overtaken  the  advanced  travellers  on  that 
way.  Could  I  only  put  you  at  my  own  point  of 
vision  ;  could  I  only  reveal  to  you  the  life-histories 
that  have  passed  under  my  eye,  and  the  prognosis 
from  the  earlier  stages  of  the  life-way  that  has  been 
sadly  verified  and  seldom  deceived,  —  I  know  that 
you  would  be  as  afraid  of  the  beginnings  of  evil  as 
you  are  now  of  its  bitter  end.  Not  that  there  are 
lacking  single  instances  of  evil  forsaken,  of  false 
ways  retraced.  But  these,  if  you  could  scan  them 
narrowly,  would  give  you  no  encouragement;  for 
they  have  been  cases  of  intense  inward  suffering, 
of  purgatorial  fires  of  remorseful  sorrow,  —  often, 
too,  of  disgrace  clinging  to  the  name  after  it  had 


CLEAN  WAYS.  243 

ceased  to  be  deserved,  of  lost  ground  never  re- 
covered, of  lifelong  sliame,  of  a  permanentl}^ 
diminished  capacity  for  good.  Moreover,  these 
instances,  whose  prestige  is  any  thing  rather  than 
hopeful,  are  but  infinitesimally  few,  compared  with 
those  in  which  no  space  has  been  found  for  re- 
pentance. 

Remember,  our  ways  lead  on  through  the  death- 
shadow  ;  and  I  know  that  there  is  but  one  way  on 
which  you  are  willing  that  death  should  overtake 
you,  —  but  one  way  whose  steps  brighten  under 
the  shadow,  and  in  which  you  can  hope  to  walk 
with  those  whom  you  would  crave  as  your  com- 
panions in  the  life  everlasting. 

'^  Wherewith  shall  a  young  man  cleanse  his 
way,"  or,  more  literally,  make  his  way  clean? 
This  is  a  metaphor  which  appeals  vividly  to  our 
experience.  What  is  there  so  disheartening  as  the 
necessity  of  treading  muddy  streets?  Even  the 
glorious  sunshine  after  a  heavy  shower,  with  rain- 
drops glittering  on  every  leaf,  gives  no  elastic- 
ity or  joyousness  to  our  tread,  when  we  plunge 
with  each  step  into  miry  clay.  There  is  a  con- 
sciousness, almost  of  disgrace,  certainly  of  utter 
unfitness  for  the  society  of  those  who  have 
escaped  this  foul  ordeal.  There  are  miry  soul- 
paths,  which  find  their  fitting  symbol  here.  Miry 
they  are   to   every   eye   in   their   more   advanced 


244  CLEAN  WAYS. 

stages  ;  for  there  is  no  evil  course  in  life  that  does 
not  tend  by  sure  and,  generall}^  rapid  steps  to 
open  shame,  squalidness,  and  misery.  In  these 
same  paths  there  must  be  at  the  outset,  on  the 
part  of  those  who  have  entered  upon  them,  unless 
self-consciousness  be  suspended,  a  conscious,  if  not 
yet  a  manifest,  uncleanness. 

There  is,  also,  a  conscious  cleanness  of  soul, 
which  is  joy  unspeakable,  —  a  condition  of  char- 
acter in  Avhich  we  cannot  but  approve  ourselves, 
and  take  complacent  delight  in  introspection.  Not 
that  we  are  unaware  of  faults  and  shortcomings; 
but  there  is  a  state  —  attainable  by  every  one  —  in 
which  our  purposes,  our  endeavors  are  all  right, — 
in  which  we  harbor  no  thoughts  of  evil,  have  no 
desires  but  for  the  true  and  the  good,  no  aims  that 
are  not  pure,  just,  and  kind,  no  rebellion  of  spirit 
against  Providence,  no  malignant  feeling  toward 
any  fellow-being,  no  past  sin  for  which  we  have 
not  sought  forgiveness  by  forsaking  and  renouncing 
it,  —  happy  he  who  has  it  in  his  power  to  add,  as  I 
trust  not  a  few  of  us  can,  no  overt  act  or  specific 
portion  of  the  previous  hfe  to  be  looked  back 
upon  with  enduring  shame  and  emphatic  self- 
reproach.  Such  cleanness  of  soul  awakens,  in- 
deed, neither  vanity  nor  pride,  but  only  profound 
gratitude  to  the  helping  spirit  of  our  Father.  Yet 
with  this  consciousness  we  would  not  shrink  from 


CLEAN  WAYS.  245 

showing  the  world  what  we  are.  However  lowly 
in  our  self-esteem,  we  yet  know  -that  we  belong 
among  the  pure,  true,  and  loyal  spirits,  and  that 
should  the  earthly  house  be  dissolved,  the  tent  of 
the  body  struck,  this  moment,  we  should  find  our- 
selves with  such  spirits  in  the  house  not  made 
with  hands.  In  this  state  of  character  we  shrink 
not  from  the  searching  eye  of  Him  to  whom  all 
hearts  are  open.  His  presence  with  us  is  ever  a 
glad  thought,  and  we  know  that  his  perpetual 
benediction  rests  on  our  clean  life-path. 

But  there  are  no  evil  ways  from  which  the 
mire  does  not  cleave  to  the  soul,  befoul  the  self- 
consciousness,  destroy  self-respect,  and  make  the 
presence  of  the  pure  and  virtuous  a  condemning 
presence.  I  do  not  believe  that  on  any  false  or 
vicious  way  one  ever  feels  at  ease  when  he  thinks 
of  himself;  and  the  only  resource  must  be  to 
avoid  introspection,  to  shun  solitude,  to  evade  the 
lone  hour  when  the  thoughts  are  forced  inward. 
Least  of  all  can  the  impure  self-consciousness 
brook  the  thought  of  the  divine  presence,  and  an 
evil  life  is  practically  an  atheistic  life. 

Would  to  Heaven  that  we  might  take  for  the 
soul  a  lesson  from  the  body !  Personal  cleanness 
and  pureness  were  never  held  in  so  high  esteem, 
their  opposites  were  never  in  such  reproach,  as  now. 
,We  sedulously  seek,  if  they  are  to  be  had,  clean 


246  CLEAN  WAYS. 

paths  for  our  feet,  and  bewail  ourselves  when  we 
cannot  find  them.  We  are  ashamed,  even  though 
no  other  qjq  be  upon  us,  if  we  are  forced  to  pro- 
long travel-stain  or  any  squalid  condition  of 
person  or  attire.  Can  it  be  that  there  is  one  so 
imbruted  that  he  feels  not  the  travel-stain  of  sinful 
ways,  —  that  there  is  not  a  close-clinging  sense  of 
impurity  when  the  soul  has  debased  itself  by  foul 
deeds,  indulgences,  or  associations  ?  Must  there 
not  be  a  self-loathing,  a  self-contempt,  in  those 
who  are  making  themselves  vile  ?  I  cannot  doubt 
that  it  is  so.  I  ^annot  think  that  a  young  man 
ever  transgresses  any  law  of  right  without  a  con- 
sciousness of  inward  soil,  most  pitifully  in  con- 
trast with  his  previous  cleanness  of  spirit.  I 
cannot  think  that  there  is  one  such  youth  who 
would  not  most  gladly  resume  his  former  position. 
But,  as  I  have  said,  these  miry  ways  are  precip- 
itous, and  the  first  step  is  on  the  brow  of  a  fearful 
declivity,  from  which  one  feels  impotent  to  retract 
his  tread.  The  sole  safety  is  in  venturing  only  on 
clean  ways.  The  avoidance  of  wrong  and  evil  is, 
God  helping,  in  the  power  of  every  one  of  us. 
We  may  make  and  keep  our  way  clean ;  once 
defiled,  to  cleanse  it  may  be  beyond  our  power. 
*'  Wherewith  shall  a  young  man  cleanse  his 
way?  By  taking  heed  thereto  according  to  thy 
wordy     What    is   the  word   of   God  ?     We    are 


CLEAN   WAYS.  247 

accustomed  to  hear  the  phrase  applied  to  the 
Scriptures,  which  are,  indeed,  a  record  of  God's 
word  at  various  times  and  through  divers  agen- 
cies. When  this  psalm  was  written,  the  Penta- 
teuch was  in  the  hands  of  the  people,  and  the 
Mosaic  law  was  as  a  light  shining  in  a  dark  place, 
till  the  day  should  dawn  and  the  day-star  arise ; 
but  it  is  not  to  this  that  the  Psalmist  refers.  The 
sacred  poets  and  seers  of  the  Hebrews  seldom 
or  never  designate  by  the  word  of  God  a  written 
revelation,  —  a  past  divine  utterance,  however 
authentic  and  sacred.  With  them  the  word  of 
God  is  a  present  word,  —  a  word  nigh  his  children, 
in  their  hearts  and  souls.  An  unerring  and  un- 
dying conscience,  a  sense  of  right  and  wrong, 
native  in  the  soul  of  man,  is  God's  word  to  you 
and  me.  You,  my  friends,  know  the  right.  There 
is  never  a  question  of  duty,  in  which  you  do  not 
know  what  you  ought  to  do.  There  is  never  a 
sinful  compliance  to  which  you  are  tempted  or 
urged,  of  whose  moral  character  you  have  the 
slightest  doubt.  If  you  will  only  keep  your  con- 
duct level  with  your  knowledge,  there  will  never 
be  an  act  of  your  lives,  with  which  a  rigidly,  yet 
wisely  virtuous  man  will  find  fault,  still  less,  one 
for  which  God  will  hold  you  guilty. 

If  5'OU  will  examine  your  self-consciousness,  you 
will  find   that   it  is   never  as  to  the  qualities  of 


248  CLEAN   WAYS. 

actions  that  you  feel  doubt  or  hesitation.  The 
questions  which  perplex  you,  and  which  it  is 
unspeakably  dangerous  for  a  young  person  to 
begin  to  ask,  are  such  as  these  :  How  far  may  I 
go  in  a  wrong  direction,  and  yet  be  sure  to  go  no 
farther  ?  Is  there  any  harm  in  a  slight  compro- 
mise of  principle  ?  Can  I  not  with  ultimate 
safety  trespass  once,  or  a  little  way,  on  forbidden 
ground  ?  Can  I  not  try  the  first  pleasant,  attrac- 
tive steps  on  a  way  which  I  am  determined  on  no 
account  to  pursue  farther  ?  May  I  not  go  as  far 
in  the  wrong  as  others  are  going,  w^ithout  reproach 
and  without  fear  ?  Is  there  not  some  redeeming 
grace  in  companionship,  so  that  I  may  venture 
with  others  a  little  farther  than  I  would  be  willing 
to  go  alone  ?  May  not  my  conscience  under  care- 
ful home-training  and  choice  home-examples  have 
become  more  rigid  and  scrupulous  than  is  befit- 
ting or  manly  in  one  who  has  emerged  into  com- 
parative freedom?  In  these  questions  are  the 
beginnings  of  evil,  —  the  first,  it  may  be,  fatal 
steps  in  miry  ways.  Your  conscience  will  not 
mislead  you  ;  but  you  relax  its  strict  control  at 
your  peril.  So  long  as  you  obey  your  conscience, 
you  are  taking  heed  to  your  way  according  to  the 
word  of  God. 

But  this  phrase  has  for  us  another  meaning, — 
another,  yet   the  same.     The   Word    of    God  — 


CLEAN  WATS.  249 

the  very  same  word  which  speaks  to  us  in  con- 
science —  has  lived  incarnate  in  the  one  sinless  Son 
of  Man,  or  rather,  not  has  lived,  but  ever  lives, 
in  the  heaven  whither  he  has  gone  before  us  and 
where  his  welcome  awaits  our  following  him,  in 
his  gospel,  fresh  as  when  the  words  of  grace  and 
truth  fell  from  his  lips,  in  the  pure  spirits  trained 
in  his  nurture,  in  the  examples  of  excellence  that 
have  transmitted  his  holiness  in  a  line  of  living 
light  all  down  the  Christian  ages,  and  in  whom 
the  Christ  within  has  shone  forth  in  radiant 
beauty.  It  is  of  unspeakaljle  worth  to  us  that 
we  have  thus  in  a  perfect  life  an  incarnate  con- 
science, by  whose  record  our  consciences  are 
enlightened,  quickened,  intenerated.  As  you 
trace  the  outlines  of  his  character,  as  you  read 
his  precepts  of  piety,  faithfulness,  and  love,  there 
is  not  a  trait  which  you  do  not  see  ought  to  be 
yours,  not  a  rule  of  life  which  you  do  not  feel 
sacredly  bound  to  obey.  The  voice  from  heaven, 
'^  This  is  my  beloved  Son,  in  whom  I  am  well 
pleased,"  is  a  voice  which  your  own  hearts  echo ; 
nor  have  you  the  slightest  doubt  that  God  is  well 
pleased  in  you,  his  child,  in  the  proportion  in 
which  you  resemble  that  best  beloved. 

But  you  may  ask.    Why  a  duplicate   word  of 
God  ?     If  the  word  of  God  in  conscience  be  suf- 
ficient, why  an  incarnate  Word  ?     I  reply,   Con- 
11* 


250  CLEAN  WAYS. 

science,  though  infallible,  is  not  sufficient.  It 
never  gives  a  wrong  decision ;  but  it  often  fails  of 
giving  a  right  decision.  While  it  cannot  be  bribed 
into  falsehood,  it  may  be  drugged  into  silence. 
When  on  the  judgment  seat,  it  utters  righteous 
judgment ;  but  it  does  not  always  hold  court  and 
keep  term-time.  We  are  prone  to  keep  causes 
out  of  court,  or  to  present  only  partial  issues ;  and 
conscience,  unappealed  to,  grows  slow  and  slug- 
gish, —  disobeyed,  subsides  into  inaction.  But  a 
living  law,  a  "living  way,"  an  example  applica- 
ble and  imitable  in  all  our  life-ways,  stimulates 
conscience  when  inert,  animates  it  when  slothful, 
suggests  issues  for  its  trial,  multiplies  occasions  for 
its  action,  and  extends  its  recognized  jurisdiction 
to  all  of  the  exemplar's  life  that  is  parallel  with 
ours. 

Still  farther,  in  a  concern  so  essential  as  our 
spiritual  well-being,  the  duplication  of  guides  on 
our  life-way,  even  were  it  no  more  than  literal 
duplication,  accords  with  God's  method  both  in 
the  material  and  in  the  spiritual  universe.  What- 
ever we  need  to  know  he  almost  always  permits  us 
to  know  at  the  mouth  of  two  witnesses.  Thus,  in 
all  departments  of  true  science,  we  rel}^  neither  on 
intuition  alone,  nor  on  observation  or  experiment 
alone,  but  on  their  concurrent  testimony.  The 
analogy  of    God's   government  might  lead   us  to 


CLEAN  WAYS.  251 

anticipate  Christ  from  conscience,  —  the  incarnate 
Word  of  God  to  verify,  and  to  be  verified  by,  the 
word  of  God  in  our  souls.  Each  postulates  the 
other.  Conscience  needs  Christ  to  make  it  con- 
stant, quick,  and  keen ;  Christ  craves  conscience 
as  his  avenue  of  entrance  into  the  soul  of  man. 
Conscience  takes  in  Christ,  assimilates  him  into  its 
own  substance,  feeds  on  him  as  on  its  bread  from 
heaven  ;  and  Christ  incarnates  himself  anew  in  the 
conscience  thus  vivified  and  nourished. 

Would  you,  then,  make  your  way  clean  ?  Take 
heed  to  it  according  to  the  word  of  God,  as  it 
comes  to  you  in  conscience  and  in  Christ. 

One  word  in  closing.  Among  those  whom  I 
address  there  is  probably  not  a  single  person  who 
would  not  indignantly  spurn  the  thought  of  a  low, 
disgraceful,  vicious  life,  as  beneath  the  meanest 
possibility  for  his  future.  But  there  are  two  life- 
ways,  between  which  a  young  man's  first  choice 
usually  lies.  One  is  that  on  which  the  youth 
3'ields  himself  without  questioning  to  the  most 
attractive  companionships,  —  to  indulgences  near 
the  border-line  between  the  forbidden  and  permis- 
sible, if  sanctioned  by  his  friends  and  associates, — 
to  the  loosest  construction  of  duty  and  the  widest 
liberty  of  speech  that  pass  current  in  their  circle. 
The  other  is  that  on  which  the  twin  guidance 
of  conscience  and  of  Christ  is  chosen,  and  never 


252  CLEAN  WAYS. 

parted  from.  The  former  is  a  way  which  never 
looks  so  well  as  at  its  starting-point,  and  in  which 
miry  passages  very  early  befoul  the  traveller  in  his 
own  consciousness  and  in  the  eyes  of  all  who  have 
the  least  true  discernment  of  character.  The  lat- 
ter we  have  seen  only  with  growing  complacency, 
admiration,  and  gladness,  —  a  way  brightening  as 
it  advances,  yet  so  radiant  even  in  early  youth 
that  added  lustre  is  a  fresh  surprise,  still  a  sur- 
prise that  grows  and  multiplies  with  years,  till  in 
ripened  manhood,  or  the  not  decline,  but  culmina- 
tion of  old  age,  there  seems  to  rest  a  heavenly 
glory  on  the  life  which,  from  childhood  onward, 
has  kept  only  clean  ways  under  the  guidance  of 
God's  word. 


CONVERSATION.  253 


XXI. 

CONVERSATION. 

**  Let  your  speech  he  alway  with  grace,  seasoned  with  salt."  —  CoLOS- 
SIANS  iv.  6. 

T  T  7HEN  we  call  a  person  a  brilliant  speaker,  Ave 
^  '  use  an  idiom  which  runs  back  to  an  antiq- 
uity beyond  our  tracing.  The  same  Greek  noun 
means  both  man  and  light,  and  it  is  derived  from  a 
root  which  means  both  to  speak  and  to  shine.  The 
ideas  which  underlie  this  verbal  kindred  are  that 
man  is  the  light  of  this  lower  world,  and  that  it  is 
through  speech  that  he  shines,  so  that  he  who  does 
not  keep  his  lips  from  malice  and  guile  cannot 
fulfil  the  command,  "  Let  your  light  so  shine  be- 
fore men,  that  they  may  glorify  your  Father  in 
heaven." 

In  the  epistle  of  St.  James  —  the  most  profound 
and  discriminating  ethical  treatise  of  which  I  have 
any  knowledge — we  are  told  that  he  who  does  not 
offend  in  word  is  a  perfect  man.  I  believe  this. 
We  see  many  men  and  women  so  good  that  we 
can  never  find  any  ground  for  blame  in  them  ex- 


254       ^  CONVERSATION. 

cept  in  word ;  but  who  is  there  that  is  not  some- 
times betrayed  into  utterances  which  he  has  reason 
to  regret?  Even  the  apostles,  while  the  Pente- 
costal baptism  was  still  moist  upon  their  brows, 
could  not  keep  this  besetting  sin  at  bay  ;  their 
historian,  with  characteristic  frankness,  records 
several  instances  in  which  hard,  sharp,  bitter  words 
passed  between  members  of  the  sacred  college  ; 
and  St.  Peter  —  by  no  means  least  of  the  offenders 
—  names  as  the  crownino-  excellence  of  him  who 

o 

"  did  no  sin,"  that  *'  neither  was  guile  found  in  his 
mouth,"  and  that  'MAdien  he  was  reviled,  he  reviled 
not  again ;  when  he  suffered,  he  threatened  not." 

I  might  talk  to  you  about  the  sins  of  speech,  and 
night  would  close  down  upon  us  before  I  had 
uttered  in  caution  the  half  of  what  might  deserve 
to  be  marked, .  learned,  and  inwardly  digested. 
But  the  best  way  of  escaping  or  reforming  faults 
is  to  cultivate  the  opposite  excellencies.  I  pro- 
pose, therefore,  to  show,  so  far  as  I  can,  what 
should  be  the  traits,  rules,  and  aims  of  truly  Clnis- 
tian  conversation.  Our  text  comprehends  all  that 
can  be  said,  in  a  single  sentence.  Let  us  develop 
its  meaning. 

There  is  no  more  suggestive  word  than  grace^ 
which  —  I  would  say  in  passing  —  corresponds  in 
root,  sound,  and  sense  with  the  Greek  word  which 
it  is  used  to  translate.     It  denotes  love,  and  seems 


CONVERSATION.  255 

always  to  have  a  divine  reference,  designating  the 
love  of  God,  either  as  it  resides  in  him,  as  it  is  in- 
carnated in  Christ,  or  as  it  is  reflected  from  man. 
I  think  tliat  even  in  our  secular  use  of  the  word 
there  is  this  tacit  reference  to  a  divine  ideal.  By 
grace  we  mean  more  than  heartless  polish,  surface- 
beauty,  or  manners  disjoined  from  virtue.  The 
word  mounts  readily  to  our  lips  only  where  the 
well-endowed  soul,  kind,  pure,  devout,  gives  form 
to  the  outward  life. 

By  speech  with  grace,  the  apostle,  I  suppose, 
does  not  mean  what  is  commonly  called,  often  mis- 
called, religious  conversation.  This  is  good  in  fit 
time  and  place,  and  is  always  seasonable  between 
those  wdio  need  and  those  who  can  impart  advice 
or  consolation,  and  among  those  who  can  render  to 
one  another  substantial  aid  and  encouragement  in 
the  religious  life.  But  it  is  distasteful  and  injuri- 
ous when  obtruded  on  unfit  occasions  ;  worthless, 
when  it  runs  into  perplexing  technicalities ;  offen- 
sive, when  it  degenerates  into  unmeaning  cant ; 
mischievous,  when  it  feeds  the  habit  of  morbid 
introspection  and  self -suspicion,  and  thus  creates  a 
spiritual  hypochondria  analogous  to  the  imaginary 
maladies  that  result  from  talkinor-  too  much  about 
ph3^siology.  But  there  is  a  grace  which,  blending 
with  speech  on  all  sorts  of  subjects  and  occasions, 
may  make  the  whole  intercourse  of  life  religious, 


256  CONVERSATION. 

because  frank,  true,  kind,  and  reverent.  I  can 
conceive  that  our  Saviour,  when  he  sat  with  his 
friends  at  Bethany,  talked  with  them,  not  only 
about  God  and  heaven,  but  about  their  family  his- 
tory, their  friends,  their  earthly  concerns  and  pros- 
pects ;  yet  there  must  have  been  in  all  that  he  said 
that  which  indicated  him  as  the  Holy  One  of  God. 
Thus  should  it  be  with  his  followers.  While,  so 
far  from  studying  a  restricted  range  of  topics,  they 
enter  freel}^  into  all  timely  subjects,  grave  or  gay, 
general  or  personal,  it  should  be  their  aim,  or, 
rather,  the  spontaneous  movement  of  the  spirit  of 
Christ  within  them,  to  have  their  *'  speech  always 
with  grace."  Let  us  look  in  detail  at  some  of  the 
traits  of  grace  that  should  characterize  the  conver- 
sation of  Christians. 

It  may  seem  superfluous  to  name  truth  as  the 
first  requisite  ;  for  it  might  be  said  that  the  Chris- 
tian has,  of  course  —  to  use  the  sturdy  Saxon  idiom 
of  our  English  Bible  —  "  put  away  lying."  He 
has,  indeed,  if  sincere,  "put  away  "  all  voluntary 
and  deliberate  falsehood.  Yet  are  not  many  really 
excellent  persons  careless  as  to  exact  and  literal 
truth?  On  their  lips  does  not  a  surmise  some- 
times take  the  place  of  a  fact,  —  a  dim  and  cloudy 
reminiscence,  of  a  clear  recollection,  —  a  report 
through  unknoAvn  and  irresponsible  channels,  of  an 
authentic  statement?     Are  those  who  would  not 


CONVERSATION.  257 

for  their  right  hands  make  a  lie  always  equally 
scrupulous  about  lies  made  by  others,  or  those  that 
grow  from  tongue  to  tongue  ?  TJiere  is  hardly  a 
possible  deviation  from  the  truth,  in  any  important, 
especially  in  any  personal,  matter,  which  may  not 
either  do  mischief  to  others,  or,  on  being  confronted 
with  the  fact,  reflect  just  discredit  on  him  Avho 
gives  it  currency.  Yet  how  few  persons  are  there 
who  are  content  to  confine  what  they  say  within 
the  limits  of  what  they  know  !  There  are  so  many 
things  beyond  these  limits,  which  will  give  zest  and 
animation  to  social  intercourse,  will  entertain  and 
amuse;  while  literal  speech — every  word  weighed 
in  the  scales  of  conscience  —  is  so  jejune  and  dull. 
Yet  speech  thus  weighed  will  often  save  one  from 
fearful  responsibility  as  an  accomplice  in  mischief, 
wrong,  and  evil,  and  Avill  minister  largely  to  the 
possession  of  that  priceless  inward  grace,  "  a  con- 
science void  of  offence  toward  God  and  man." 

Nearly  allied  to  truth  in  the  utterance  of  what 
purports  to  be  fact  is  sincerity  in  the  expression  of 
opinions  and  feelings.  According  to  an  old  apo- 
logue, all  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth  once  agreed 
to  raise  a  shout  at  a  certain  specified  moment,  that 
the  blended  voices  of  the  whole  human  race  might 
reach  the  moon  ;  but  when  the  designated  moment 
arrived,  every  man,  woman,  and  child,  except  one 
man  in  China  who  was  stone-deaf,  stood  silent, 

Q 


258  CONVERSATION. 

with  suspended  breath,  in  a  listening  attitude.  In 
like  manner,  on  numerous  subjects  on  which  the 
clear  utterance  of  all  who  think  soberly  would  be 
as  efficient  in  demolisliing  the  wrong  or  establish- 
ing the  right  as  was  the  trumpet-blast  of  the 
Israelites  in  overthrowing  the  walls  of  Jericho,  or 
Amphion's  13^6  in  building  those  of  Thebes,  good 
men.  Christian  men,  pause  to  listen  when  they 
ought  to  speak,  or  utter  themselves  as  ambiguously 
as  the  Delphic  oracle,  that  their  words  may  bear 
an  interpretation  favorable  to  whichever  side  may 
prevail.  The  consequence  is,  that  what  is  called 
public  opinion  on  subjects  of  prime  importance  is 
often  manufactured  by  those  interested  on  the 
wrong  side.  While  there  is  no  wind  at  all,  the}^ 
set  the  great,  high  vane  that  every  one  sees,  and 
nail  it  fast  so  that  it  cannot  turn,  and  then  the 
breath  of  uttered  opinion  gradually  swells  into  a 
breeze  which  takes  the  same  direction  with  the 
vane.  Now  there  is  no  moral  force  on  earth  so 
mighty  as  would  be  the  candid,  free,  outspoken 
opinion  of  Christian  men  and  women, — their  strong 
and  full  utterance  in  conformity  wdth  their  honest 
convictions.  Such  utterance  is  an  essential  part  of 
the  trust  reposed  in  each  member  of  society  for  the 
common  good.  There  are  tolerated  in  every  com- 
munity wrongs  and  abuses,  which  would  not  out- 
last a  single  week  of  plain  and  honest  protest  by, 


CONVERSATION.  259 

or  in  behalf  of  those  whom  they  injure  or  imperil. 
The  sincerit}^  which  I  would  urge  on  such  subjects 
should  be  regarded  as  inseparable  from  the  open 
confession  of  Christ,  or  of  Christian  principle  in 
the  aggregate ;  and,  were  it  not  a  matter  of  sad  ex- 
perience, it  would  seem  incredible  that  so  many 
are  willing  to  deny  in  detail  the  very  truth  which, 
as  a  whole,  they  hesitate  not  to  acknowledge  and 
defend,  thus  dismembering  the  Saviour,  and  cruci- 
fying him  by  piecemeal. 

I  spoke,  also,  of  sincerity  in  the  expression  of 
feeling.  Sincerity  or  silence  should  be  the  alter- 
native. Were  it  so,  we  should  set  ourselves  dili- 
gently at  work  to  cure  what  we  now,  perhaps, 
seek  only  to  disguise.  Bad  feeling,  discontent, 
dislike,  envy,  malignity,  ought  not,  indeed,  to  be 
uttered  ;  but  while  they  rankle  in  the  heart,  their 
opposites  should  not  be  forced  into  hypocritical 
utterance.  Let  the  artifice  employed  to  give 
shapely  and  truth-like  expression  to  the  proper 
feelings  which  we  do  not  feel,  be  exchanged  for 
the  self-reforming  endeavor  to  suppress  and  reno- 
vate in  our  hearts  all  to  which  we  should  blush  to 
give  utterance.  But  every  genuine  feeling  which 
is  worthily  entertained  demands  and  merits  un- 
constrained and  warm  expression.  Such  expres- 
sion gives  health  and  vigor  to  the  emotional 
nature,    as    free    breathing    in    a    bracing   atmos- 


260  CONVERSATION. 

phere  to  the  lungs.  Admiration,  generous  enthu- 
siasm of  every  kind,  mirth,  the  love  of  beauty  in 
nature  and  in  art,  and  all  the  kindly  sympathies 
of  life,  by  natural  and  hearty  utterance,  at  once 
gain  strength  and  diffuse  pleasure,  bless  those 
who  speak  and  those  who  hear ;  while  he  who 
keeps  right  and  honest  feelings  under  a  perpetual 
restraint  becomes  the  cold  and  passionless  clod  he 
tries  to  seem,  and  is  a  very  iceberg  to  the  society 
that  ought  to  be  warmed  and  cheered  by  what- 
ever of  emotional  fervor  there  mio^ht  be  in  him. 
I  pass  now  to  the  essential  grace  of  kindness. 
The  tongue  is  the  chief  instrument  of,  the  chief 
hinderance  to,  charity.  It  blesses  more  effectu- 
ally, it  wounds  more  keenly,  than  an}^  other 
agency.  Indeed,  what  is  charity  without  it  ?  It 
is  only  the  very  abject  that  can  enjoy  mere  alms. 
In  unnumbered  instances  what  is  coldly  given,  or 
accompanied  with  words  of  undeserved  chiding,  or 
of  that  pity  which  hardly  differs  from  disdain, 
starves  and  chills  the  soul  while  it  feeds  and 
warms  the  body,  discourages  self-help,  deadens 
the  hope  of  better  tJnngs,  and  thus  adds  bitterness 
to  penury ;  while  there  are  words  which  bless 
even  the  very  poor  more  than  gifts,  which  call 
forth  in  them  slumbering  resources  for  their  own 
relief,  lift  them  up  toward  the  condition  from 
which  they  have  fallen,  revive  a  hope  that  is  often 


CONVERSATION.  261 

the  earnest  of  its  own  fulfilment,  and  supply  that 
healing  for  the  broken  spirit  without  which  mere 
alms-giving  but  prolongs  the  death-struggle  with 
adversity. 

In  ordinary  social  life,  too,  kind  speech  is  de- 
manded beyond  all  other  forms  of  kindness.  In 
families  and  among  friends,  were  you  to  place  on 
one  side  the  unhappinesses,  alienations,  enmities, 
mutual  wrongs,  of  which  careless,  unjust,  or  un- 
kind speech  is  the  cause,  and  on  the  other  side 
those  that  spring  from  every  conceivable  cause 
independent  of  speech,  the  latter  pile  would  be 
to  the  former  what  the  mole-hill  is  to  the  moun- 
tain ;  and  if  from  the  lesser  heap  you  were  to  take 
away  those  the  causes  of  whose  causes  in  the  sec- 
ond, third,  or  fourth  degree  were  evil  tongues,  you 
would  probably  make  the  mole-hill  level  with  the 
ground.  How  many,  at  every  moment  and  in 
every  social  circle,  are  the  spirits  temporarily 
wounded  or  permanently  aggrieved  through  the 
unkind  license,  too  often  of  Christian  lips, — 
through  whispered  calumny  or  covert  innuendo, 
through  words  of  untempered  irritation  and  bit- 
terness, or  through  that  malignant  artifice  which 
conceals  its  point  in  honeyed  phrase,  like  a  wea- 
pon wreathed  with  flowers  !  How  immeasurably 
would  our  social  happiness  be  enhanced,  were 
unvarying  kindness  the  law  of  our  lips !     What 


262  CONVERSATION, 

beneficent  agency  can  be  compared  with  that  of  him 
or  her  in  whose  ears  all  scandal  lies  buried,  all 
calumn}^  rests  unrepeated;  who  deems  the  fountain 
of  the  lips  hallow^ed  for  gentle  ministries ;  who 
sincerely  seeks,  in  daily  intercourse,  to  soothe  and 
encourage,  enlighten  and  reform,  refine  and  ele- 
vate, comfort  and  bless? 

But  that  our  speech  be  always  kind,  it  is  not 
enough  that  we  pull  up  every  root  of  bitterness  in 
the  heart.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  unkind  speech 
that  is  not  meant  to  be  so,  —  heedless,  ill-timed, 
without  sufficient  thought  of  the  sensibilities  of 
those  with  whom  we  are  talking.  The  fibres  of 
human  feeling  are  tremulously  sensitive  to  an  un- 
skilled touch ;  and,  while  the  false  ostentation  of 
kindness  is  contemptible,  we  cannot  commend  too 
highly  the  study  and  cultivation  —  under  the  im- 
pulse of  heart-kindness  —  of  the  rare  and  difficult 
skill  by  which  we  may  adapt  ourselves  to  the 
tastes  and  inwreathe  ourselves  with  the  sympa- 
thies of  those  with  whom  we  are  brought  into 
intercourse. 

I  ought  perhaps  to  make  modesty — my  next 
grace  of  speech  —  a  subdivision  under  the  last; 
for,  without  modesty,  though  speech  be  kindly 
meant,  it  can  hardly  be  kindly  taken.  ''  In  honor 
preferring  one  another,"  is  an  essential  rule  of 
.the  "speech   always  with    grace."     Vanity,   self- 


CONVEBSATION.  2G3 

assertion,  the  desire  to  shine,  the  ambition  for 
effect,  and  the  opinionativeness  which  always 
knows  that  it  is  in  the  right  and  that  all  others 
are  in  the  wrong,  barely  tolerable  when  connected 
with  really  brilliant  powers,  in  persons  not  above 
mediocrity  are  absolutely  disgusting.  Mutual  en- 
tertainment and  instruction  are  the  chief  uses  of 
conversation ;  and  these  ends  are  utterly  defeated, 
when  one  assumes  as  his  of  right  the  foremost 
place,  and  sits  as  an  oracle,  or  wdien  one  manifestly 
cares  more  about  being  admired  than  about  im- 
parting either  information  or  amusement.  He 
who  would  converse  with  grace  must  be  capable 
of  patient  listening,  and  must  have  a  hospitable 
ear  no  less  than  a  ready  tongue. 

Reverence  is,  also,  an  essential  grace  of  conver- 
sation. Where  the  tone  of  reverence  is  low,  even 
with  some  sincerely  Christian  persons,  there  is  a 
vicious  tendency  to  introduce  sacred  names,  top- 
ics, or  phrases,  whenever  they  ma}^  give  zest  or 
raciness  to  an  anecdote,  point  a  jest,  or  barb  a  rep- 
artee. But  this  should  be  shunned  for  the  same 
reason  for  which  openly  profane  speech  is  to  be 
most  deprecated;  namely,  that  the  thoughts  whose 
appropriate  language  passes  into  careless  and 
trivial  use  are  thus  belittled  and  degraded,  and  so 
lose  their  hold  on  the  inward  sentiment  of  wor- 
ship.    Not  only,  therefore,  should  the  non-rever- 


264  CONVERSATION. 

ent  use  of  holy  words  be  deemed  unworthy  of  a 
Christian ;  but  when,  as  may  often  be  the  case,  the 
natural  track  of  conversation  leads  near  the  oracles 
of  God,  and  sacred  themes  are  discussed  or  re- 
ferred to,  there  should  always  be  in  our  speech 
that  which  corresponds  to  the  taking  off  of  the 
shoes  on  holy  ground,  —  a  reverence  of  manner 
conformed  to  the  heart-reverence,  which  cannot 
but  be  exhaled  if  left  unembodied. 

St.  Paul's  rule  for  conversation  is  not  grace 
alone,  but  ''  grace  seasoned  with  salt ; "  that  is, 
not  insipid,  as  talk  that  is  negatively  good,  and 
especially  that  which  is  expressly  meant  to  be 
good,  often  is.  It  is  the  frequent  lack  of  salt  that 
has  brought  (so-called)  religious  conversation  into 
such  low  repute ;  for  many  persons  imagine  that 
they  are  performing  a  sacred  and  edifying  service, 
if  they  can  only  string  holy  words  together,  how- 
ever lean  or  trite  the  thought  may  be;  whereas,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  more  grace  there  is  in  the 
words,  the  more  salt  do  they  need  to  make  them 
palatable,  to  render  them  worthy  of  themes  so 
vast  and  high,  and  to  give  honor  and  worship  to 
these  themes  in  the  minds  of  those  that  hear. 

In  the  intercourse  of  daily  life,  in  visiting  and 
in  social  gatherings,  there  is,  it  seems  to  me, 
where  there  is  no  positive  fault,  a  frequent  indif- 
ference to  the  staple  and  character  of  the  conver- 


CONVERSATION,  265 

sation,  —  a  willingness  merely  to  fill  up  the  time 
with  a  continuous  flow  of  words,  no  matter  with 
how  little  sense,  or  wit,  or  even  freshness.  But 
the  Christian  should  regard  the  capacity  for  con- 
versation as  a  talent  to  be  employed  for  essential 
and  precious  uses.  For  many  this  mode  of  inter- 
course is  the  chief  medium  both  of  recreation  and 
of  instruction.  More  than  almost  any  thing  else,  it 
makes  home  attractive,  and  gives  a  charm  to  soci- 
ety. For  very  many  it  supersedes  diversions  both 
frivolous  and  extravagant ;  for  not  a  few,  diver- 
sions dangerous  and  harmful.  It  is  not  suffi- 
ciently considered  that  for  young  men  of  the 
highest  promise,  conversation  piquant,  entertain- 
ing, and  exciting  is  often  the  first  attraction  in  con- 
vivial circles  and  vicious  associations ;  and  were 
there  equal  vivacity,  wit,  humor,  versatility,  in 
their  homes  and  among  their  kindred  and  friends, 
the  love  of  their  pure  and  healthful  society  would 
be  the  most  powerful  of  all  coanter-charms  against 
bad  company. 

In  order  to  talk  well,  there  must  be  not  the  self- 
ish ambition  to  shine,  but  the  unselfish  wish  to 
please  and  profit.  To  this  end  we  must  not  enter 
into  conversation  lazily  and  listlessly.  It  is  not 
thus  that  Ave  engage  in  other  recreations.  In  them 
we  recognize  and  experience  the  law  of  our  na- 
ture, that  the  change  of  work  is  in  itself  recrea- 
12 


266  CONVERSATION. 

tion.  There  is  no  game  of  strength  or  skill  to 
which  we  do  not  biing  our  best  powers,  though 
other  powers  than  those  ^enlisted  in  our  more 
serious  occupations ;  and  these  last  find  their  re- 
pose and  their  renewed  vigor  in  the  alternation. 

We  need  to  train  ourselves  to  bear  our  part  in 
social  intercourse.  We  should  keep  ourselves 
conversant  with  all  the  current  interests,  all  the 
dominant  topics  of  the  time,  and  should  exercise 
our  own  minds  upon  them  ;  so  that  we  may  not 
reproduce  the  stale  and  hackneyed  common-places 
of  the  daily  press  or  the  talk  of  the  street,  but 
may  offer  views  that  bear  the  stamp  of  thought, 
and  have,  at  least  in  form  and  phrase,  something 
peculiarly  our  own.  We  should  not  evade  the 
labor,  always  pleasant  when  habitual,  of  discuss- 
ing topics  of  interest,  maintaining  and  defending 
our  own  opinions,  and  draAving  out  in  friendly 
skirmish  diverging  or  opposing  opinions  or  argu- 
ments. 

He  who  would  talk  well  must  also  read  much 
and  well :  and  he  should  in  his  reading  have  two 
aims,  — the  one,  to  be  conversant  with  what  every 
person  reads  and  is  ready  to  talk  about ;  the 
other,  to  have  his  own  specialty,  from  which  he 
can  add  to  the  common  stock  of  knowledge,  and 
enlarge  in  his  circle  the  range  of  subjects  of  intel- 
ligent interest.     A  person  who  is  intimately  con- 


CONVERSATION.  267 

versant  with  some  one  department  of  literature, 
art,  or  science,  not  generally  cultivated,  may  find 
numerous  opportunities  for  giving  entertainment 
and  instruction,  without  conceit  or  pedantry. 

There  is,  again,  as  to  conversational  power,  the 
widest  difference  between  him  who  moves  ever  as 
in  a  blind  study,  and  him  who  goes  through 
life  with  eyes  and  ears  always  open.  The  inci- 
dents of  a  journey,  of  a  walk  through  crowded 
streets  or  a  stroll  in  the  country,  the  treasured 
experiences  of  distant  or  foreign  travel,  the  cu- 
rious information  gleaned  from  transient  fellow- 
wayfarers,  the  contents  of  an  old  book  on  a 
tavern-table,  may  add  lai^ely  to  one's  materials 
for  pleasant  and  appetizing  conversation.  Daniel 
Webster  said,  not  long  before  his  death,  that 
among  the  most  valuable  materials  —  often  of 
essential  importance  —  for  his  political  discourses 
and  his  arguments  at  the  bar,  had  been  those  thus 
picked  up  by  the  way-side,  and  that  it  had  been 
his  life -long  habit  to  employ  such  opportunities, 
with  the  utmost  diligence,  with  a  view  to  the  con- 
tingent benefit  to  be  derived  from  them.  Much 
more  availing  would  accumulations  of  this  sort  be 
for  the  much  more  various  occasions  of  general 
intercourse. 

If  we  would  talk  well,  we  must  throw  ourselves 
unreservedly  into   social    intercourse,   instead    of 


268  CONVERSATION. 

keeping  up  our  own  insulated  trains  of  thought, 
listening  by  snatches,  and  answering  at  hap-haz- 
ard.  If  we  want  to  meditate,  let  it  be  in  solitude. 
If  we  talk,  that  is  our  work  for  the  time  being, 
and  we  should  put  into  it  the  best  that  there  is  in 
us.  If  the  theme  be  grave,  let  it  have  our  ripest 
thoughts  in  well-weighed  utterance  ;  if  gay,  let  us 
contribute  whatever  we  can  of  mirth  pure,  chaste, 
and  kindl}^,  —  of  wit,  without  petulance  or  mal- 
ice,—  of  humor,  always  free  from  sarcasm  and 
ill-nature.  Best  of  all  is  the  commingling  of  the 
grave  and  the  gay,  —  the  discussion  of  subjects 
worthy  of  our  interest  as  intelligent,  responsible, 
immortal  beings,  with  the  lambent  play  of  imagi- 
nation, fancy,  and  the  lighter  and  more  festive 
elements  of  social  intercourse,  —  that  gravity  may 
not  lapse  into  dulness,  nor  gayety  evanesce  into 
levity  and  folly. 

But  with  the  salt  let  the  Christian  never  forget 
the  grace.  Not  mere  amusement  must  be  his  aim, 
but  edification,  in  its  true  sense ;  that  is,  the  build- 
ing up  of  the  social  edifice,  with  its  substantial 
foundation,  frame,  and  walls  of  solid  principle, 
noble  aims,  and  high  aspirations,  with  its  finer 
fretwork  and  tracery  that  shall  lack  no  element  of 
beauty.  There  are  occasions  on  which  he  must 
speak  directly  and  cogently  in  defence  of  the  truth 
and  the   right,  —  must   advise,    warn,  encourage, 


CONVERSATION,  269 

plead  his  Master's  cause,  and  sometimes  even  deal 
rebuke  and  censure.  There  are  more  numerous 
occasions,  when,  with  a  heart  always  loyal,  he  can 
serve  the  cause  of  virtue  and  piety  much  more 
efficiently  by  talking  on  common  subjects  with  the 
sincerity,  truth,  purity,  and  kindness  which  be- 
long to  him  as  a  follower  of  Christ,  and  by  drop- 
ping unostentatiously,  ever  and  anon,  a  word  in 
season  that  may  in  those  that  hear  be  a  seedling 
thought  for  the  spiritual  harvest.  I  once  knew  a 
most  devoted  Christian  minister,  of  whom  it  was 
said  that  he  never  uttered  in  private  aught  that 
could  be  taken  for  a  homily,  and  never  seemed  to 
talk  rehgiously,  yet  never  left  a  friend  or  a  com- 
pany of  friends  without  having  said  something 
that  had  made  a  profound  impression  for  good,  — 
often  in  a  playful  attack  or  rejoinder,  amusing  at 
the  time  for  its  point,  but  for  a  point  that  struck 
deep  and  left  its  ineffaceable  mark ;  and,  many 
years  after  he  had  gone  to  his  reward,  old  men 
and  women  loved  to  rehearse  these  sayings  of  his 
which  they  had  never  forgotten,  and  for  which 
they  had  been  the  better  for  their  lives  long. 
One  of  the  most  upright  and  honest  men  I  ever 
knew  told  me  in  his  old  age  that,  so  far  as  he 
had  been  saved  from  the  besetting  sins  of  trade, 
his  freedom  from  them  was  due  to  a  jocose  but 
profoundly  significant  remark  of  his  pastor,  as  he 


270  CONVERSATION. 

sat  with  him  on  his  counter  on  the  very  first  day 
that  he  commenced  business  for  himself.  Skill 
like  this  few  of  us  may  possess ;  but,  with  the 
ever-wakeful  spirit  of  service,  there  are  none  of 
us  who  have  not  the  frequent  opportunity  for 
the  highest  usefulness,  which  we  may  exert  with- 
out pretence  or  show  or  cant,  by  simply  letting 
our  light  shine  naturally  in  our  common  inter- 
course,—  keeping  it  always  in  the  candlestick, 
instead  of  hiding  it  under  a  bushel,  as  we  are 
so  prone  to  do,  except  on  solemn  occasions  and 
in  formal  utterances.  He  who  thus  lives  makes 
the  nearest  approach  that  can  be  made  to  the  spirit 
and  character  of  Him  whose  record  is  that  "  he 
went  about  doing  good." 

Much  more  I  would  gladly  say ;  but  I  have 
already  taxed  your  attention  too  long.  One  word, 
however,  in  conclusion.  B}^  the  standard  which  I 
have  presented,  who  of  us  is  there  that  can  acquit 
himself  of  sins  and  shortcomings?  Yet  some  of 
us  have  certainly  desired  and  endeavored  to  be  in 
this  regard  all  that  we  ought  to  be.  It  is  in  these 
details  of  daily  life,  constant,  ever-varying,  and, 
though  in  appearance  minute,  of  the  intensest 
significance  and  moment,  that  we  most  of  all  feel 
our  weakness  and  our  neediness.  Left  to  our- 
selves, we  cannot,  even  in  this  matter  of  speech, 
which  seems  so  easy,  govern  ourselves.     We  can- 


CONVERSATION,  271 

not  so  guard  our  lips  that  they  shall  not  give  us 
ground  for  regret  and  self-reproach.  But  in  this, 
as  in  every  department  of  duty,  we  can  do  all 
things  through  Christ  strengthening  us ;  and  we 
know  that,  in  the  measure  of  our  intimacy  with 
his  spirit,  our  words  will  be  redolent  of  the  love, 
purit}^  and  sweetness  that  are  in  him.  If,  then, 
we  thus  need  him  in  our  uneventful  daily  inter- 
course, how  can  we  suffer  ourselves  to  remain  out 
of  the  pale  of  his  guidance  and  salvation  ? 


272  HEBREW,    GREEK,   AND  LATIN. 


XXII. 

HEBREW,    GREEK,    AND    LATIN. 

"And  Pilate  wrote  a  title,  and  put  it  on  the  a'oss.  And  the  writing  was, 
Jesus  of  Nazareth,  the  King  of  the  Jews.  And  it  was  written  in 
Hebrew,  and  Greek,  and  Latin."  — John  xix.  19,  20. 

''  I  ^HERE  is  a  great  deal  of  unconscious  prophecy. 
A  striking  instance  of  it  is  contained  in  the 
record  which  I  have  taken  for  my  text.  Here  jest 
grows  into  earnest.  Words  meant  in  derision  are 
verified  in  solemn  fact.  The  mock-title  becomes  a 
name  of  glory ;  and  the  very  languages  in  which 
the  insult  was  triplicated,  as  if  to  give  it  a  three- 
fold bitterness  of  contempt  and  scorn,  are  most 
honored  in  having  first  borne  the  message  of  that 
cross  over  the  civilized  world. 

These  languages  represent  in  their  very  structure 
three  entirely  unlike  types  of  character.  The  He- 
brew has  grandeur,  but  no  grace.  It  thrills  the 
hearer  with  awe  in  the  solemn  chant  or  recitative 
of  the  synagogue  ;  but  it  early  ceased  to  be  a  ver- 
nacular tongue  in  the  common  transactions  of  life, 
to  which  it  can  never  have  been  so  adapted  as  to 


HEBREW,  GREEK,  AND  LATIN,  273 

have  clone  good  service  in  the  kitchen  or  at  the 
work -bench.  The  Greek  is  spoken  beauty,  —  mel- 
hfluous,  flexible,  lending  itself  to  every  form  of 
social  intercourse,  the  ally  of  art  and  song,  of  the 
feast  and  the  dance  ;  yet  fit  speech  for  nymphs 
rather  than  for  angels,  for  an  earthly  paradise 
rather  than  for  the  house  not  made  with  hands. 
The  Latin  is  precise,  compact,  terse,  and  vigorous 
to  the  last  degree,  in  its  better  days  with  no  loose 
joints,  no  feeble  idioms,  —  the  language  of  com- 
mand, of  resolute  purpose  and  decisive  action, 
wdiose  very  study  is  a  tonic.  These  three  tongues 
were  all  familiar  to  the  Jewish  ear  in  the  time  of 
Christ,  —  the  Hebrew,  as  still  the  language  of  wor- 
ship, and  as  the  base  of  the  mixed  dialect  used  in 
secular  life ;  the  Greek,  as  spoken  by  educated 
men  of  all  nations  ;  the  Latin,  as  the  official  lan- 
guage of  the  Roman  government. 

These  languages  correspond  to  the  forms  of  cult- 
ure, which,  not  fresh  and  vigorous,  but  degenerate 
and  effete,  were  grouped  together,  yet  without 
commingling,  in  every  city  and  land :  for  the  He- 
brews had  long  been  a  migratory  people ;  the 
Greeks  were  the  preceptors  of  the  world  in  art, 
literature,  and  philosophy  ;  while  Roman  soldiers 
and  officials,  of  course,  swarmed  in  all  parts  of 
the  empire. 

The  Hebrews,  alike  in  their  best  and  their  worst 
12*  R 


274  HEBREW,   GREEK,  AND  LATIN, 

days,  in  their  culmination  and  tlieir  decline,  were 
pre-eminently  a  religious  people.  Even  when  they 
lapsed  into  idolatry,  they  were  in  sad  earnest ;  and 
from  the  time  of  the  Babylonish  captivity  they 
were  attached,  with  a  tenacity  that  has  no  parallel 
in  history,  to  the  worship  of  Jehovah,  and  to  the 
letter  of  their  ancient  law  as  of  divine  authority. 
Their  first  temple,  long  anterior  to  the  birth  of 
Grecian  art,  was  in  its  time  the  most  costly  and 
magnificent  edifice  in  the  world ;  and  their  appa- 
ratus of  worship  was  more  thoroughly  organized, 
more  sumptuous,  and,  though  not  without  features 
that  bespoke  a  barbaric  age,  more  tnajestic  than 
any  other  ritual  prior  to  the  full  material  develop- 
ment of  Romanism.  Nor  was  Judaism  in  its  ear- 
lier days  a  mere  ritual.  Its  psalms  will  to  the  end 
of  time  remain  unsurpassed  in  tenderness  and 
grandeur.  Its  prophets,  in  the  loftiness  of  their 
devotion,  and  in  their  gorgeous  pictures  of  the 
Messianic  reign,  had  a  far  higher  inspiration  than 
ever  flowed  from  Castalia  or  Helicon.  But  in  the 
time  of  Christ  the  harp  of  praise  vibrated  only  in  a 
few  faithful,  waiting  souls.  The  national  religion 
had  divorced  itself  from  progressive  culture  and 
from  active  life,  and  had  lapsed  into  a  punctilious 
formalism.  The  temple- worship  retained  much  of 
its  exterior  majesty,  but  had  lost  its  soul. 

The   Greek  culture   was  distinguished,  beyond 


HEBREW,   GREEK,   AND  LATIN.  275 

tliat  of  all  other  nations  ancient  and  modern,  by 
the  sovereignty  of  beauty.  It  deified  all  the  fairest 
forms  of  nature  and  humanity.  It  gave  a  trans- 
cendent grace  and  charm  to  daily  life.  It  sur- 
rounded common  objects  with  refining  associations. 
Its  art  arrived  at  a  perfectness  which  is  the  despair 
of  these  latter  ages.  In  every  merely  material 
direction  it  reached  a  summit  of  excellence  which 
has  been  approached,  never  attained,  by  modern 
civilization.  But  it  lacked  the  religious  element; 
for  the  worship  of  forms  fashioned  by  human  skill 
and  genius  was  an  exercise,  not  of  piety,  but  of 
taste,  and  so  far  as  the  worshipper  looked  behind 
these  forms,  and  gave  credence  to  the  myths  from 
which  they  took  shape,  his  reverence  could  only 
have  ministered  to  his  degradation.  The  highest 
type  of  the  Grecian  intellect,  too,  lacked  nerve, 
vigor,  and  persistency.  Not  the  Spartan,  indeed, 
but  the  Athenian,  was  fickle,  the  slave  of  impulse, 
by  turns  brave  and  cowardly,  loyal  and  treacher- 
ous, the  tyrannicide  and  the  supple  instrument  of 
usurped  authority.  Under  these  deteriorating  in- 
fluences the  Grecian  culture  had  lapsed  into  a 
feeble  sensualism,  winning  still,  but  corrupting  ; 
and  the  people,  slaves  or  adventurers  in  every 
land,  carried  with  them  art  and  philosophy,  and 
at  the  same  time  luxury,  effeminacy,  and  the  vices 
that  are  w^ont  to  follow  in  their  train. 


276  HEBREW,   GREEK,  AND  LATIN. 

The  Roman  culture  was  that  of  unbending  law, 
rigid  discipline,  and  hardy  self-control,  maintained 
in  the  primitive  age  by  a  strong  government  and 
by  the  enforced  subordination  of  class  to  class.  In 
that  early  time  the  standard  of  individual  virtue 
and  of  domestic  purity  was  high ;  and  though  the 
Romans  were  from  the  first  a  nation  of  conquerors, 
their  justice,  covenant-keeping,  and  good  faith 
made  willing  subjects  of  the  conquered  nations, 
and  gave  unity,  compactness,  and  strength  to  their 
growing  empire.  But  though  their  gods  were  of  a 
higher  order  than  those  of  the  Grecian  pantheon ; 
though  in  the  better  days  of  the  republic  there 
seems  to  have  been  no  little  sincerity  in  their 
worship,  especially  in  the  ritual  of  which  each 
separate  gens  and  each  single  family  were  the  cus- 
todians,—  their  advancing  knowledge  soon  outgrew 
their  faith,  and  their  religion  became  a  nonentity 
to  the  more  enlightened,  a  mere  police-force  to  the 
credulous  populace.  Rude,  and  averse  from  all 
refining  influences,  they  were  at  first  jealous  of  the 
intrusion  of  the  higher  civilization  of  Greece,  and, 
when  they  could  no  longer  keep  it  at  bay,  they 
succumbed  to  its  vices  far  more  readily  than  they 
imbibed  its  humanities.  At  the  Christian  era, 
moral  corruption,  rapacity,  and  avarice  had  replaced 
the  robust  virtues  of  their  ancestors ;  and  though 
they  still  gave  law  to  the  civilized  world,  they  had 


HEBREW,  GREEK,  AND  LATIN.  277 

lost  the  severity  of  self-restraint,  and  already 
showed  unmistakable  tokens  of  an  empire  which 
had  reached  its  term,  and  must  soon  become  inured 
to  defeat,  disaster,  and  decline. 

These  were  the  effete  forms  of  culture,  whose 
signature  was  written  over  the  cross.  Each  had 
dwindled  and  was  ready  to  perish  for  lack  of  the 
others.  They  belong  together.  They  are  parts  or 
complements,  each  of  the  others.  Religion  may 
exist  alone  in  the  individual  soul ;  but,  as  an  ele- 
ment of  social  and  national  life,  it  needs  all  the 
humanities,  —  it  must  make  taste,  beauty,  art, 
refinement,  its  satellites,  —  it  must  ally  itself  to  all 
that  can  give  grace  and  dignity  to  home  and  to 
social  institutions.  Religion,  too,  can  live  only  as 
a  working  force.  "  Not  slothful  in  business,  fer- 
vent in  spirit,"  are  inseparable  characteristics  of 
its  development  in  communities  and  nations.  Art, 
in  its  turn,  needs  religion  for  its  purity,  its  gran- 
deur, its  benign  influence  as  an  educational 
agency.  It  equally  needs  the  element  of  law,  to 
counteract  its  enervating  influence,  and  to  blend 
vigor  with  grace,  strength  with  beauty.  Law, 
also,  demands  a  higher  sanction  than  its  own.. 
This  is  typified  in  the  myth  of  ^Egeria  as  the 
inspirer  of  Numa's  legislation  ;  and  who  can  say 
how  far,  in  the  days  of  rude  credulity,  a  belief  in 
accordance  with  that   myth  may  have  made  the 


278  HEBREW,   GREEK,   AND  LATIN. 

Romans  a  law-abiding  people  ?  It  is  only  when 
law  is  recognized  as  divine  in  its  source,  and  hu- 
man legislation  as  man's  best  effort  to  embody 
God's  law  in  liis  own,  that  the  institutions  of  gov- 
ernment and  the  organism  of  society  can  be  both 
stable  and  progressive,  —  stable  in  the  loyalty  of 
the  people,  progressive  with  their  growth.  Law 
requires,  too,  that  its  sternness  be  relieved  by  the 
humanizing  influence  of  art,  taste,  and  aesthetic 
culture. 

Jesus  combines  in  his  person  these  three  forms 
of  culture.  He  is  emphatically  King  of  the  Jews  ; 
for  the  love  and  the  worship  of  God  are  his  royal 
robe  and  diadem,  —  the  intensity  of  the  religious 
life  is  betrayed  in  his  every  utterance,  —  the 
formula  of  his  whole  being  is  embraced  in  those 
words  of  the  beloved  apostle,  "  The  Son  who  is 
in  the  bosom  of  tlie  Father."  He  is  more  than 
Grecian  in  the  grace,  amenity,  and  sweetness  of  his 
spirit  and  his  walk  among  men.  He  is  more  than 
Roman  in  the  perfectness  with  which  he  makes 
himself  the  incarnate  law  of  God,  and  alone, 
among  those  born  of  Avoman,  finishes  the  whole 
work  that  God  gave  him  to  do. 

These  elements  are  blended,  unified,  in  the 
Christian  worthy  of  the  name.  The  developed 
Christian  character  has  the  fervent  religiousness 
of  the  Hebrew  psalmists  and  seers,  only  with  less 


HEBREW,   GREEK,  AND  LATIN.  279 

of  the  Sinai  than  of  the  Zion  type.  However 
destitute  of  the  wonted  means  of  culture,  it  takes 
on,  or  rather  takes  in,  a  culture  of  its  own,  sweet, 
gentle,  kind,  spiritual,  so  that  the  grace  of  God 
assumes  forms  which  man  can  recognize  as  grace- 
ful. It  is,  also,  a  law-abiding  spirit,  submitting, 
indeed,  not  as  to  a  hard  yoke,  but  as  to  a  loving 
service  ;  and  law  gives  it  a  forceful  energy,  which 
pervades  the  whole  life-work,  and  makes  it  con- 
stant, loyal,  noble.  These  traits  are  united  in  all 
the  exemplars  of  Christian  excellence,  not,  indeed, 
in  the  perfect  equipoise  which  is  seen  in  Jesus 
alone,  but  each  in  a  sufficient  measure  to  show 
whence  it  came,  and  to  distinguish  it  from  traits 
elsewhere  derived  and  otherwise  nourished.  We 
can  trace  this  threefold  culture,  not  only  in  those 
who  fill  high  places  and  Avield  an  extended  influ- 
ence, but  equally  in  the  lowliest  and  least  privi- 
leged spheres.  Wherever  in  humble  and  obscure 
life  you  find  a  person  of  untaught  grace  of  mien 
and  speech,  and  rigidly  faithful  in  tlie  least  re- 
quirements of  duty,  you  may  trace  also  the  more 
than  Hebrew  religiousness,  and  you  may  "  take 
knowledge "  of  such  a  one  that  he  "  has  been 
with  Jesus." 

We  have  in  the  threefold  caption  of  the  cross 
our  own  directory  of  duty.  Religion,  the  inmost 
consecration  of  the  soul  to   God,  the  hidden  life 


280  EEBREWy   GREEK,   AND  LATIN. 

with  him  in  prayer,  praise,  and  love,  is  the  prime 
element.  It  can  be  replaced  by  no  acuteness  in 
logomachy,  by  no  zeal  for  dogmas,  by  no  cestlietic 
devotion  to  rites  and  forms,  by  no  punctiliousness 
of  external  observance.  Christ  reigns  only  in  the 
soul  that  has  been  led  by  him  into  intimate  com- 
munion with  the  Father. 

But  let  it  be  ever  borne  in  mind  that  religion  is 
not  for  the  individual  soul  alone.  It  is  a  power 
which  should  diffuse  itself  in  benignant  influence 
throughout  its  whole  sphere  of  action ;  and  this 
it  can  do  only  by  alliance  with  whatever  adorns, 
sweetens,  and  elevates  the  life  of  man.  There  has 
been  prevalent,  in  many  quarters,  a  religiousness 
destitute  of  grace,  unattractive,  nay,  even  repul- 
sive. There  are  those  who  think  that  they  best 
serve  God  by  spurning  many  of  his  choicest  gifts. 
The  asceticism  of  more  ignorant  ages  still  perpetu- 
ates itself  in  the  severity  with  which  the  whole 
festive  side  of  life  is  regarded.  To  not  a  few 
minds  religion  is  associated  with  austerity  and 
gloom,  simply  because  those  who  present  the 
most  ostentatious  show  of  piety  seem  intent  on 
making  the  service  of  God  appear  unamiable  and 
his  supremacy  over  the  soul  a  harsh  despotism. 
If  those  who  seek  to  be  Christians  would  only 
prize  and  cultivate  the  beauty  of  holiness ;  if  in 
them  Religion  were  clothed  in  her  rightful  gar- 


HEBREW,   GREEK,  AND  LATIN.  281 

ments,  the  gala-attire  which  belongs  to  her  as  an 
every-day  dress,  —  they  would  be  much  more 
truly  and  efficiently  missionaries  for  the  faith  than 
they  could  be  by  any  kind  or  amount  of  personal 
appeal  or  stringent  propagandism.  Only  let  the 
light  shine  fair  and  clear,  without  murkiness  or 
flickering,  —  there  will  be  no  need  of  thrusting  it 
in  men's  faces ;  its  radiance  will  of  itself  attract 
and  win.  I  say  these  things,  not  because  we  are 
in  any  danger  of  asceticism  ;  but  we  are  in  danger 
from  the  false  impressions  derived  or  transmit- 
ted from  it.  Some  of  us  may  perhaps  have  learned, 
from  the  less  lovely  manifestations  of  religious  feel- 
ing, to  look  upon  religion  as  at  the  opposite  pole 
from  refinement  and  elegant  culture,  —  as  Hebrew, 
and  not  in  any  wise  Hellenistic ;  while  Christianity 
has  done  its  true  work,  only  when  it  has  Hellen- 
ized  religion,  and  Hebraized  art,  taste,  and  beauty, 
translating  into  flowing  Greek  the  square,  rude 
characters  in  which  Christ's  own  countrymen  read 
"  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  the  King  of  the  Jews." 

We  need  equally  the  Roman  element  of  law  to 
make  us  Christians  indeed.  In  the  words  of 
our  familiar  hymn,  "  the  salvation "  must  indeed 
"reign  within;"  but  the  only  sign  that  we  can 
give  or  have  of  its  inward  reign  is  that 

"  Grace  subdue  the  power  of  sin  ; 
While  justice,  temperance,  truth,  and  love 
Our  inward  piety  approve." 


282  HEBREW,   GREEK,  AND  LATIN. 

A  tlioroughly  obedient  and  dutiful  life,  pervaded 
by  the  spirit  of  service,  constantly  asking,  *'  Lord, 
what  wilt  tliou  have  me  to  do  ? "  and  govern- 
ing itself  by  the  answer,  is  the  outcome  of  the 
Christian  consciousness,  the  result  of  nurture  in 
the  school  of  Christ ;  for  "  he  only  that  doeth  the 
will  of  my  Father  in  heaven,"  says  Jesus,  "shall 
enter  into  the  kingdom."  We  often  hear  the 
phrase,  — profession  of  religion.  I  do  not  like  it. 
It  does  harm.  I  believe  that  its  association  with 
the  Lord's  Supper  has  kept  away  from  it  thou- 
sands of  modest  souls  who  to  the  Master  of  the 
feast  would  have  been  among  the  most  welcome 
guests.  There  are  times,  indeed,  when,  in  antag- 
onism to  scepticism  or  scoffing,  there  should  be 
plain  and  explicit  utterance  of  the  faith  and  hope 
that  are  in  us.  But  in  ordinary  life  our  life-work 
should  be  our  profession  of  religion,  and  it  is  the 
only  true  profession  that  we  can  make  ;  for  into 
that  work  we  put  the  best  that  is  in  us,  and  from 
it  we  throw  off  proof-impressions  of  ourselves  in 
the  earnestness,  fidelit}-,  and  thoroughness,  or  the 
negligence  and  slackness,  with  which  we  discharge 
our  dailj^  duty. 

Thus  in  the  true  Christian  is  effected  the  union 
typified  by  the  threefold  inscription  over  tlie 
cross  ;  and  when  he  who  was  then  written  King 
of  the  Jews  shall  reign  throughout  the  world,  and 


HEBBEW,   GREEK,   AND  LATIN.  283 

all  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth  shall  be  his,  the 
name  which  the  seer  of  Patraos  saw  inscribed  on 
the  Saviour's  vesture,  King  of  Kings  and  Lord 
OF  Lords,  shall  be  written  in  Hebrew,  Greek,  and 
Latin,  —  in  ceaseless  prayer  and  praise  that  shall 
make  the  two  worlds  as  one  ;  in  the  beauty  and 
harmony  that  shall  betoken  the  Paradise  of  God 
among  men ;  in  the  loyal  service  in  which  God's 
will  shall  be  done  on  earth  as  in  heaven. 


284^        PREPARATION  FOR  THE  FUTURE. 


xxin. 

PREPARATION  FOR  THE  FUTURE. 

(to  young  men.) 

"  They  that  were  foolish  tooh  their  lamps,  and  took  no  oil  with  them." 
Matthew  xxv.  3. 

nPHEY  were  too  late  at  the  bridegroom's  house, 
—  those  improvident  virgins.  Their  lamps 
had  seemed  in  good  trim  while  they  were  not 
needed  in  the  procession ;  but  at  the  last  moment 
thej^  found  them  burning  low,  and  before  they 
could  replenish  their  cans,  the  procession  had 
passed,  the  door  was  shut,  and  they  were  left  out 
in  the  dark. 

My  friends,  this  may  be  your  or  my  story  in  the 
future  ;  or  we  may  take  the  warning,  and  avert 
the  doom.  We  may  have  oil  enough  for  present 
use,  yet  not  enough  for  emergencies  that  are  im- 
pending and  certain ;  or  we  may  stow  away  enough 
for  all  possible  uses.  Preparation  for  whatever  may 
come,  the  laj'ing  in  of  such  supplies  as  shall  suf- 
fice for  every  impending  need,  is  the  lesson  of  this 
parable.     This  is  the  aim  in  all  human  structures 


PREPARATION  FOR   THE  FUTURE.        285 

that  are  wisely  planned  and  carefully  made.  Men 
build  or  construct  with  a  view  to  what  may  happen. 
Plave  you  ever  examined  a  new-built  ship  ready 
for  her  first  voyage  ?  Those  thick-ribbed  sides, 
that  close  studding  of  bolts,  those  Cjxlopean  knees, 
that  compact  massiveness  of  frame  and  finish,  seem 
no  less  impregnable  than  the  cliffs  that  line  the 
shore  and  breast  the  waves  of  unnumbered  ages. 
For  years  this  strength  may  seem  a  senseless  waste 
of  material  and  labor.  The  queenly  ship  may 
speed  as  over  charmed  seas,  and  her  conflicts  with 
the  ocean  may  be  as  mere  tournaments  for  the  dis- 
play of  her  beautiful  proportions  and  her  gallant 
bearing.  But  there  will  come  a  day  when  she  shall 
seem  as  powerless  in  the  contest  as  a  child's  toy- 
boat  launched  on  the  Atlantic,  —  when  the  unseen 
fingers  of  eddying  winds  shall  clutch  and  wrench 
every  bolt  and  pry  at  every  seam,  —  when  those 
giant  ribs  shall  quake  and  quiver,  those  stout 
planks  bend  and  grind  ;  and  if  she  outride  the 
storm,  and  keep  afloat  to  bring  home  the  ghastly 
scars  of  her  life-struggle,  it  will  be  due  to  the 
strength,  needless  till  then,  but  wisely  hoarded  by 
the  builder  for  the  hour  of  peril. 

My  young  friends,  you,  consciously  or  uncon- 
sciously, are  building  characters  for  yourselves,  and 
it  behooves  you  to  build,  not  only  for  your  present 
need,  but  for  exigencies  that  are  inevitable  with 


286  PREPARATION  FOR   TEE  FUTURE. 

added  years,  or  for  that  solemn  exigency  of  early 
death,  which  alone  can  supersede  more  arduous 
duties,  severer  temptations,  heavier  sorrows  than 
you  have  3-et  experienced  or  imagined.  Let  us 
look  too^ether  at  some  of  these  exio'encies. 

'In  the  first  place,  more  arduous  duty  than  has 
yet  devolved  upon  you  awaits  your  maturer  years. 
In  your  youth,  you  have  no  weighty  trusts  un- 
shared ;  your  obligations  are  for  the  most  part 
defined  for  3"ou  by  the  authority  that  imposes  tliem ; 
you  are  under  watchftd,  and  generally  judicious, 
guardianship  ;  ai>d  the  approval  that  you  most 
desire  attends  and  rewards  your  right-doing.  But 
when  you  shall  have  entered  on  active  life,  there 
will  be  laid  upon  you  heavy  trusts  and  responsi- 
bilities which  you  must  bear  alone.  You  will  be 
called  upon  for  strenuous,  continuous,  self-denying 
efforts,  with  no  earthly  recompense  in  view,  — 
sometimes,  for  absolutely  heroic  virtue,  in  conflict 
with  difficulty,  opposition,  and  discouragement. 
You  will  be  without  human  restraint  or  guardian- 
ship. Your  duty  may  often  run  counter  to  sur- 
rounding opinion  and  habit.  Your  motives  may  be 
misunderstood  or  called  in  question  by  those  whose 
esteem  you  most  desire.  You  may  have  to  walk 
alone,  with  the  highest  earthl}"  bribes  offered  for 
the  sacrifice  of  your  integrity,  or  the  surrender  of 
your  own  sense  of  right.    Often,  too,  you  will  have 


PREPARATION  FOR   THE  FUTURE.         287 

to  take  your  part  with  no  space  for  deliberation, 
with  no  time  to  fill  your  lamps  anew.  Meanwhile, 
a  single  false  decision  will  be  a  fatal  precedent 
for  others  ;  a  single  wrong  step  will  be  followed  by 
successive  steps  in  the  same  direction ;  a  single 
surrender  of  principle  is  only  too  likely  to  be  a  life- 
long surrender:  for  our  own  example  is  that  which, 
above  all  others,  we  are  the  most  prone  to  follow. 

Now  what  you  need  for  this  career  is  not  merely 
right  purposes,  —  who  is  without  them?  Their 
wrecks  pave  the  path  of  ruin  and  of  death.  You 
need  strength  to  keep  these  purposes  unbroken. 
What  you  shall  become  and  be  will  depend  on  the 
principles  which  you  carry  with  you  from  these 
your  young  days,  —  on  the  oil  in  your  vessels  with 
your  lamps,  —  on  the  inward  might  which  you 
store  and  hoard  for  future  use. 

You  will  want,  above  all,  a  profound  reverence 
for  the  right,  —  a  settled  conviction  that  right  and 
wrong  are  not  questions  of  meridian,  or  latitude, 
or  surroundings,  but  inherent,  inalienable  quali- 
ties of  actions,  so  that  Omnipotence  itself  could 
not  make  the  right  wrong,  or  the  wrong  right. 
You  want  not  merely  to  believe,  but  to  feel,  that 
the  moral  law  is  no  less  immutable  than  the  laws 
of  nature,  —  that  in  no  individual  instance  can  you 
tamper  with  it  or  set  it  aside,  but  to  your  loss  and 
peril. 


288         PREPARATION  FOR   THE  FUTURE, 

You  want  this,  indeed ;  but  you  want  more. 
With  this  you  will  see  tlie  right,  and  feel  your 
obligation  to  embody  it  in  conduct ;  but  3^ou  may 
see  the  right,  yet  pursue  the  wrong  from  the  mere 
craving  for  society  and  sympathy.  It  is  intensely 
hard  to  stand  alone  in  arduous  duty ;  you  will, 
therefore,  need  to  say  with  Jesus,  "  Yet  I  am  not 
alone,  for  the  Father  is  with  me."  I  knoAv  of  no 
tonic  except  the  felt  presence  of  the  Infinite 
Father,  which  can  so  nerve  the  will,  so  intensify 
the  active  powers,  so  energize  the  whole  moral 
nature,  as  to  render  right-doing  inevitable.  With 
this  you  can  face  opposition,  quell  discourage- 
ment, defy  transient  disesteem  and  loss,  and, 
were  there  need,  look  even  death  in  the  face. 
Of  ourselves  pitifully  weak,  we  thus,  for  the 
work  in  hand,  become  partakers  of  omnipotence  ; 
for  all  things  are  possible  to  him  the  fountain  of 
whose  strength  is  fed  from  the  river  before  the 
throne  of  God.  Well  said  the  apostles,  "  Show 
us  the  Father,  and  it  sufficeth  us  ;  "  and  they  saw 
the  Father  where  we  in  faith  may  see  him,  in 
those  traits  of  blended  majesty,  beauty,  and  love, 
in  which  Jesus  —  the  Emmanuel,  the  God  with  us 
—  presents  to  our  view  all  of  the  Divine  that  man 
can  know.  With  him  at  your  side  you  would  feel 
strong.  Remember  that  it  is  the  Sovereign  Love 
from  which  his  life-flame  was  kindled  that  is  ever 


PREPARATION  FOR   THE  FUTURE.        289 

with  you,  —  a  love  of  which  a  mother's  fondness 
is  too  faint  a  type,  —  a  love  which  you  cannot  take 
into  your  hearts,  as  it  flows  into  you  from  the 
heart  that  bled  for  you  on  Calvary,  and  remain 
inert  or  inadequate  as  to  any  call  of  duty. 
*'  Strong  in  the  Lord,  and  in  the  power  of  his 
might,"  you  can  find  no  duty  too  arduous,  no 
height  of  excellence  beyond  your  reach. 

Not  only  more  arduous  duties,  intenser  tempta- 
tions than  you  have  yet  encountered  are  in  re- 
serve for  you.  I  do  not  underrate  the  temptations 
of  early  youth;  and  it  is  no  small  ground  for 
gratitude  that  so  many  are  able  to  resist  them,  and 
that  in  our  society  of  young  men  there  is  a  preva- 
lent public  opinion  on  the  side  of  good  morals, 
and  a  general  detestation  of  all  the  grosser  forms 
of  vice.  It  is  a  priceless  blessing  for  you,  my 
young  friends,  and  of  the  happiest  omen  for  your 
future,  if  you  have  hitherto  been  unscathed  by  '^  the 
pestilence  that  walketh  in  darkness  and  the  de- 
struction that  wasteth  at  noonday."  All  honor  be 
given  to  the  right  feeling  and  pure  sentiment 
which  have  preserved  you  thus  far.  Yet  I  cannot 
forget  that,  with  your  severe  temptations,  you 
have  shelter  and  support  from  virtuous  home- 
influences,  many  of  you,  I  trust,  from  the  example 
and  influence  of  devout  parents  and  truly  Chris- 
tian homes.  But  the  time  is  approaching,  when 
13  s 


290         PREPARATION  FOR   THE  FUTURE. 

these  restraining  and  hallowing  forces  will  be  with- 
drawn, and  you  must  breast  temptation,  perhaps 
alone,  perhaps  in  an  atmosphere  overcharged  with 
contagious  depravity,  among  corrupt  examples, 
among  those  whose  maxims  and  habits  are  only 
the  more  ensnaring,  because  they  hide  the  gross- 
ness  of  degrading  vice  beneath  the  mask  of  re- 
finement, gentility,  and  good  fellowship. 

Then,  too,  the  appetites  and  passions,  unless 
under  the  control  of  the  highest  principle,  gain 
strength  with  the  early  years  of  manhood,  and  are 
most  vigorous  in  the  prime  of  its  maturity,  so  that 
there  are  not  a  few  instances  in  which  those  whose 
lives  have  for  years  been  void  of  reproach,  suc- 
cumb, midway  in  their  course,  in  some  moment  of 
intense  temptation,  and  are  thenceforward  among 
those  for  whom  there  seems  to  be  no  hope  of  a 
better  resurrection.  These  passions  and  appetites, 
also,  gain  a  vast  accession  of  strength  by  indul- 
gence, and  if  yielded  to  in  but  a  single  instance, 
they  too  often  assume  the  mastery,  and  make 
their  subject  their  slave ;  for  in  this  regard  one's 
own  example  is  pre-eminently  dangerous,  and 
the  old  superstition  that  he  who  gave  the  arch- 
fiend but  a  single  drop  of  his  blood  became 
his  thrall  for  ever,  is  not  a  whit  too  strong  to 
symbolize  the  results  of  perpetual  experience  and 
observation. 


PREPARATION  FOR   TEE  FUTURE.         291 

For  these  perils  which  you  must  encounter  you 
need  not  merely  right  feeling,  but  fixed  principle, 
the  fear  and  love  of  God,  the  power  of  religious 
faith,  the  heart-bonds  which  make  you  in  spirit  a 
child  of  the  Father  in  heaven.  With  these  re- 
sources you  are  safe.  With  this  hoarded  strength 
you  are  irresistibly  strong.  With  this  holy  oil 
your  lamp  will  burn  clear  and  bright,  even  in  the 
foulest  atmosphere.  Without  this  you  may  resist 
to  a  certain  point,  but  are  liable  at  any  moment  to 
have  the  snare  sprung  upon  you,  and  your  light 
quenched  in  darkness. 

From  the  dim  traditions  of  an  antiquity  of 
which  the  Hebrew  Scriptures  are  the  only  record, 
has  come  down  to  us  the  example  of  a  son  —  his 
father's  special  favorite  —  sold  into  foreign  slav- 
ery, in  a  land  of  idolaters,  and  there  tempted  to 
infamous  guilt,  with  the  alternative  of  a  dungeon, 
and  perhaps  death,  who  yet  could  say,  "  How 
can  I  do  this  great  wickedness,  and  sin  against 
God?"  In  these  words  is  a  talisman  that  never 
yet  has  failed.  The  guilty  purpose  is  dispelled, 
the  allurements  of  sin  are  neutralized,  by  the 
thought  of  the  present  God.  I  do  not  believe  that 
a  man  ever  succumbed  to  temptation,  while  he  said 
in  his  heart,  "  God  is  here."  We  fall  into  sin  only 
by  living  without  God. 

Do  you  say,  I  cannot  think  of  God  all  the  time  ? 


292         PBEPARATION  FOR   THE  FUTURE, 

I  answer,  In  one  sense  you  cannot ;  yet  in  another, 
you  can.  You  cannot  at  every  moment  frame  the 
thought  of  God  to  your  distmct  consciousness  ; 
yet  there  may  be  a  latent  consciousness  of  his 
presence  that  need  never  leave  you.  See  that 
little  child,  at  his  mother's  side,  engrossed  in  his 
picture-book  or  his  toys.  He  surely  is  not  think- 
ing of  his  mother.  Yet,  does  a  stranger  enter  ? 
He  seeks  her  arms.  Or  does  she  rise  to  leave  the 
room  ?  At  once  disturbed  and  uneasy,  he  follows 
her,  or  stays  impatient  for  her  return,  thus  show- 
ing that,  deep  beneath  his  occupation  for  the 
moment,  lay  the  restful,  gladdening  thought  of 
her  protecting,  loving  presence,  ready  at  any 
instant  to  find  shape  and  voice.  Such  is  the  con- 
sciousness of  the  present  God  which  we  may 
carry  with  us  in  our  busiest  hours,  —  real  and  in- 
separable when  latent,  distinct  and  imperative  in 
every  moment  of  need,  our  sufficient  safeguard 
and  refuge  in  every  peril.  That  you  may  be  thus 
armed,  you  should  establish  and  never  intermit 
special  seasons  of  direct  communion  with  God. 
There  is  untold  power  in  the  morning  and  the 
evening  prayer,  when  made  the  habit  of  the  life. 
More  and  more  do  they  spread  their  influence 
through  the  day,  till  they  meet  and  embrace  mid- 
way,—  the  fragrance  of  the  morning  worship 
lingering  till  noonday,  the  incense  of  the  even- 


PREPARATION  FOR   THE  FUTURE.         293 

ing  sacrifice  beginning  to  rise  when  the  shadows 
turn. 

Equally  is  there  need  of  reserved  power,  treas- 
ured wealth  of  principle,  faith,  and  hope,  for  the 
severe  trials  and  heavy  griefs  which  mast  come 
upon  you,  if  your  earthly  lives  be  prolonged. 
Some  of  3^ou  have  had  no  experiences  of  this 
class ;  and  for  those  of  you  who  have  had  them, 
the  elasticity  and  the  crowded  excitements  of 
youth  have  made  the  sorrow,  if  poignant,  yet 
intermittent  and  brief.  You  have  no  homes  of 
your  own  for  death  to  lay  waste.  You  have  not 
seen  the  blighting  of  hopes  identified  with  every 
earthly  prospect.  You  have  not  known  the  deso- 
lation that  attends  many  of  the  most  frequent 
forms  of  human  sorrow.  But  in  the  future  all  or 
most  of  you  will  have  such  experiences  in  the 
death  of  those  nearest  to  your  hearts,  or  in  those 
severer  chronic,  often  hidden,  griefs  for  which 
death  is  the  only  remedy.  Under  these  burdens, 
on  these  darkened  passages,  jou  can  have  little  or 
no  companionship,  save  of  the  partners  of  your 
grief, — you  must  tread  the  wine-press  alone, — 
alone,  unless  your  Saviour  be  with  you ;  unless  he 
who  has  felt  every  form  of  human  sorrow  breathe 
into  you  his  spirit  of  trust  and  resignation ;  unless 
he  who  in  his  own  person  transformed  the  insignia 
of   death  into  emblems  of   the  life   beyond  life, 


294        PREPARATION  FOR   TEE  FUTURE. 

strew  over  the  graves  of  those  dear  to  you  the 
perennial  spring-flowers  that  bloom  only  around 
his  broken  sepulchre.  But  there  is  a  blessed 
reality  in  his  felt  sympathy,  in  his  loving  com- 
panionship, in  the  hope  full  of  immortality  which 
he  inspires.  Oh  how  often  have  I  witnessed  in 
those  bereaved  at  every  point,  in  the  depth  of 
penury,  weighed  down  by  long  infirmity,  without 
earthly  help  or  hope,  the  tokens  of  a  happiness, 
compared  with  which  mirth  and  gayety  seemed 
vapid !  Often  in  going  from  one  of  these  (so- 
called)  homes  of  sorrow  to  visit  a  household  that 
had  known  no  grief,  I  have  felt  a  sudden  depres- 
sion of  spirit,  an  inward  chill,  as  when  one  passes 
from  a  brilhantly  lighted  room  into  a  starless 
night ;  for  from  the  soul  where  faith  is  strong  and 
hope  is  clear  there  glows  a  pure  and  genial  radi- 
ance, —  "the  glory  of  God  doth  lighten  it,  and 
the  Lamb  is  the  light  thereof." 

But  none  of  the  experiences  that  I  have  named 
may  be  yours.  From  many  an  early  grave,  from 
many  a  young  and  vigorous  frame  laid  low  in 
unwarned  death,  comes  the  voice,  "  Be  ye  also 
ready."  For  this  contingency  need  you  not  oil 
in  your  vessels  with  your  lamps,  —  an  assured 
faith  that  your  sins  are  forgiven,  your  souls  ac- 
cepted with  God?  Not  long  ago,  one  of  the 
oldest  graduates  of  our  college,  a  man  whose  life 


PREPARATION  FOR   TEE  FUTURE.         295 

has  been  singularly  pure,  true,  faithful,  generous 
from  youth  to  age ;  who  has  been  too,  though 
religious,  not  a  religious  dogmatist,  but  broadly 
liberal  in  his  speculations  as  a  Christian  scholar, 
with  the  largest  freedom  in  Christ,  not  from  him ; 
a  man  who,  with  unimpaired  mental  vision  and 
power,  yet  knows  that  he  is  close  upon  the  outer- 
most verge  of  life,  —  said  (and  his  words  were 
written  down  as  they  fell  from  his  lips),  "I  cannot 
understand  how  any  thoughtful  man,  reviewing  his 
life,  and  searching  his  heart  in  the  full  conscious- 
ness that  he  is  soon  to  appear  in  the  presence  of 
an  infinitely  holy  God,  to  whom  he  is  to  give  a 
strict  account  of  every  act  and  secret  thought,  can 
help  feeling  the  need  of  a  Redeemer.  For  my- 
self, I  must  say  that  I  can  find  no  ground  of 
comfort  or  hope,  apart  from  my  faith  in  the 
redemption  of  the  world  through  a  suffering 
Saviour.  Through  him  alone  it  is  that  I  dare 
to  feel  a  trembling,  yet  confident  assurance  of 
being  received  into  a  perfectly  pure  and  blissful 
heaven." 

It  is  easy,  wliile  death  seems  remote  from  us,  to 
magnify  our  claims,  and  to  keep  our  infirmities 
and  our  ill  desert  out  of  mind.  But  wheu  you 
and  I  shall  be  consciously  near  the  last  earthly 
hour,  I  know  tl^at  we  shall  not  feel  adequate  in 
our  own  strength  to  ford  the  death-river,  and  in 


296        PREPARATION  FOR   THE  FUTURE. 

the  pride  of  our  own  merit  to  demand  admittance 
at  the  golden  gate.  It  will  then  be  of  unspeak- 
able worth  to  us  to  have  heard,  before  the  shadow 
of  death  closes  over  us,  the  voice  of  him  who  has 
power  on  earth  to  forgive  sin,  to  have  felt  the 
reconciling  ministry  of  his  cross,  and  the  might 
of  his  redeeming  love. 

Thus,  living  or  dying,  you  need  preparation  for 
the  inevitable  future,  oil  in  jout  vessels  with  your 
lamps  ;  in  other  words.  Christian  piety,  by  which  I 
mean  the  consecration  of  the  will  and  the  affec- 
tions to  your  God  and  your  Saviour.  This  may  be 
yours.  On  God's  part  every  thing  has  been  done, 
and  the  attitude  of  his  Spirit  toward  each  one  of 
you  is  expressed  in  those  words  from  the  vision  of 
the  beloved  disciple,  "  Behold,  I  stand  at  the  door, 
and  knock."  All  that  remains  for  you  is  told  in 
our  Lord's  parable,  in  which  the  son  came  to  him- 
self, and  said,  ''  I  will  arise  and  go  to  my  Father." 
You  cannot  come  to  yourselves ;  you  cannot  see 
what  you  are,  what  you  must  encounter,  what  you 
will  inevitably  need,  without  saying  with  your 
whole  soul,  "  Saviour,  I  must,  I  will  be  thine. 
Take  me,  lead  me,  shield  me,  redeem  me  from  sin, 
deliver  me  from  evil.  Let  me  in  thy  light  walk 
safely  and  surely  while  I  stay  here ;  and  when  I 
wake  immortal  from  the  grave,  let  me  be  still  with 
thee." 


PREPARATION  FOR   THE  FUTURE.         297 

My  young  friends,  there  is  no  spectacle  so  glad- 
dening to  good  men,  I  can  hardly  imagine  one  that 
gives  such  joy  in  heaven,  as  the  consecration  of 
youth  to  God.  Beautiful  and  honorable  is  piety 
when  it  encircles  the  hoary  head  with  its  crown  of 
glory,  and  blends  the  dawn  of  the  unending  day 
with  the  waning  lustre  of  the  earthly  life.  Rich 
and  glorious  is  it  when  it  lights  up  the  midway 
career  of  active  duty,  hallows  the  home  and  the 
busy  walk,  and  makes  even  the  house  of  merchan- 
dise the  Father's  house.  But  if  piety  assumes  an 
aspect  more  venerable  than  any  other,  it  is  when 
it  glows  in  the  dew  of  youth,  —  when  it  clothes 
with  its  strength  the  uncrippled  powers,  and  pours 
its  fervor  through  the  undimmed  affections  of  him 
who  hears  the  Master's  early  call,  and  enters  life 
under  the  Good  Shepherd's  guidance.  I  love  to 
trace  the  onward  steps  of  such  a  youth.  I  watch 
him  in  prosperity,  and  see  his  peace  thanksgiv- 
ing, and  his  gladness  praise.  I  mark  his  demeanor 
in  his  early  disappointments  and  griefs,  and  per- 
ceive that  there  still  remains  with  him  the  good 
part,  the  angels'  portion.  I  see  light  for  him  in 
darkness ;  in  earthly  desolation  there  are  for  him 
heavenly  communings,  sympathies  from  before  the 
thi-one  of  God.  Whatever  clouds  may  gather 
about  his  path,  yea,  though  he  walk  through 
13* 


298        PREPARATION  FOR   THE  FUTURE, 

the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  he  feels  and 
fears  no  evil. 

"  As  some  tall  cliff  that  lifts  its  awful  form, 
Swells  from  the  vale,  and  midway  leaves  the  storm. 
Though  round  its  breast  the  rolling  clouds  are  spread, 
Eternal  sunshine  settles  on  its  head." 


TEE  CREATOR,  299 


XXIY. 

THE  CREATOR. 

"In  the  beginning  God  created  the  heaven  and  the  earth." — Genesis  i.  1. 

"DELIEVING,  as  I  do,  that  religious  truth  de- 
"^  pends  not  for  its  validity  on  this  or  that 
scientific  theory,  I  do  not  like  to  make  Religion  a 
party  in  scientific  controversies  ;  for,  while  she  is 
invulnerable  in  her  legitimate  conflicts,  she  re- 
ceives no  wounds  so  ghastly  and  so  hard  to  heal  as 
when  she  is  drawn  into  strife  beyond  her  own  do- 
main. Science,  however,  sometimes  breaks  bounds 
as  well  as  Religion.  There  have  been,  as  you 
know,  recent  instances  in  which  the  fundamental 
behef  in  God  as  the  Creator  of  the  heaven  and  the 
earth  has  been  impugned,  or  set  aside  as  super- 
fluous, and  the  existence  of  the  universe  and  of 
organized  being  ascribed  to  material  causes  alone. 
My  present  design  is  to  show  you  that  the  evolu- 
tion-theory, if  admitted  in  full,  is  not  of  itself  suffi- 
cient to  account  for  things  as  they  are.  It  may 
define  the  mode  of  creation ;  but  it  cannot  super- 
sede the  Creator.     Though  I  am  not  its  disciple, 


300  TEE  CREATOR. 

I  have  no  hostility  to  it.  Whatever  be  its  fate, 
whether  it  shall  or  shall  not  ultimately  take  its 
place  among  estabhshed  scientific  verities,  it  has 
corrected  and  elevated  the  conceptions  of  thinking 
men  and  women  as  to  the  origin  of  the  universe. 
The  ideas  of  specific  creation  used  to  be  almost  as 
mechanical  as  those  associated  with  any  human 
artificer  and  his  works.  Plants,  animals,  and  man 
were  supposed  to  have  been  made  and  started  into 
being  very  much  as  the  figures  in  a  puppet-show 
might  be  manufactured  and  put  in  action.  But 
now,  enlightened  theologians,  no  less  than  philoso- 
phers, conceive  of  a  progressive  creation  rather 
than  of  successive  acts  of  creation ;  of  types  and 
races  of  organized  being  at  every  stage  contingent 
on  and  modified  by  the  conditions  of  soil  and  atmos- 
phere ;  in  fine,  of  development,  though  not  in  a 
single  line,  and  not  without  the  controlling  purpose 
of  an  all-wise  and  all-mighty  Creator. 

Whatever  our  theory,  there  must  have  been  a 
beginning.  Even  if  a  past  eternity  be  claimed  for 
brute  matter,  there  must  have  been  a  time  when  it 
began  to  take  shape.  The  present  planetary  and 
stellar  motions  cannot  always  have  been ;  else  they 
would  not  now  be  what  they  are.  In  our  own 
planet,  geology  carries  us  back,  through  ages  which 
our  arithmetic  cannot  count  or  span,  to  an  era  when 
no  foot  of  beast  trod  the  reeking  morass,  no  fin 


TEE  CREATOR,  301 

plouglied  the  turbid  chaos,  no  wing  floated  in  the 
murky  expanse  swept  by  boiling  mud-torrents ; 
when  there  was  neither  soil  to  give  a  plant  root, 
nor  sunlight  to  paint  its  petals;  when  the  earth 
was,  like  much  of  the  philosophy  that  seeks  to  give 
account  of  it,  without  form  and  void,  and  darkness 
was  upon  the  face  of  the  abyss. 

We  are  told,  on  the  best  scientific  authority,  that 
the  earth  was,  for  unnumbered  aeons,  at  a  tempera- 
ture very  far  exceeding  the  highest  at  which  the 
germs  of  organic  Hfe  can  exist,  —  a  temperature 
which,  were  it  to  supervene  now,  would  resolve  all 
existing  organisms  into  inorganic  atoms.  As  the 
planet  cooled,  if  there  be  no  God,  life  must  have 
started  spontaneously  from  brute,  inorganic  matter. 
There  are  but  two  ways  in  which  this  could  have 
taken  place,  —  development  and  efficient  causation. 
Development  occurs  when  the  succeeding  forma- 
tion exists  in  embryo  in  the  preceding,  as  the 
plant  in  the  seed,  the  bird  in  the  egg,  the  butterfly 
in  the  caterpillar.  But  at  this  epoch,  there  being 
no  existing  germs,  there  was  nothing  to  develop, 
or  to  be  developed  from. 

Causation  presents  equal  difficulty.  A  cause 
includes  its  effect,  that  is,  there  must  be  in  the 
cause  some  reason  why  it  should  produce  the 
specific  effect  ascribed  to  it  rather  than  any  other. 
Now,   not   only  is    there   no    authentic    instance 


802  THE  CREATOR. 

within  the  knowledge  of  man  in  which  life  has 
sprung  spontaneously  from  inorganic  matter ; 
but  inorganic  matter  cannot  even  nourish  or 
sustain  life.  Not  only  animals,  but  plants  derive 
the  elements  on  which  they  feed  from  organized 
matter,  and  cannot  be  similarly  fed  by  the  very 
same  elements  supplied  in  forms  that  never  pos- 
sessed organic  life.  It  is  the  peculiarity  of  life 
that  it  perpetuates  itself  by  its  own  resources,  the 
living  feeding  on  the  dead ;  and  it  has  from  inor- 
ganic matter  nothing  but  mechanical  support  and 
shelter,  depth  for  its  roots,  space  for  its  growth, 
scope  for  its  locomotion.  How  then  can  inor- 
ganic matter  be  the  cause  of  that  organic  life 
which  it  is  utterly  powerless  to  sustain  or  re- 
new? 

Moreover,  if  there  be  no  God,  inorganic  matter 
—  earths,  gases,  and  water — must  be  the  cause, 
not  of  organic  life  alone,  but  of  sensation,  instinct, 
reflection,  reason,  emotion,  love,  piety.  If  so, 
what  relation  is  there,  or  can  there  ever  have 
been,  between  the  cause  and  the  effect?  Cer- 
tainly, not  that  between  the  container  and  the 
contained.  Before  life  began  upon  the  earth,  it  is 
inconceivable  that  even  an  omniscient  philosopher 
from  an  older  planet,  capable  of  the  most  minute 
and  deep-probing  analysis,  could  have  discovered 
in  the  elements  then  before  him  aught  of  which  — 


THE  CREATOR.  303 

though  by  the  transformations  of  unnumbered 
ages  —  a  Homer,  a  Raphael,  a  Newton  could  have 
been  constructed.  Yet  the  effect  cannot  transcend 
the  cause.  If  mind  be  mere  brain  and  tissue, 
in  the  matter  which  produced  it  there  must  have 
resided  the  latent  power  of  all  that  mind  has  be- 
come and  shall  become. 

To  pass  from  organic  life  to  the  consideration 
of  the  universe  as  a  whole,  it  is  admitted  on  all 
hands  that  nature  is  now  governed  by  law,  —  that 
its  sequences  are  all  orderly.  If  there  be  not  a 
Sovereign  Mind,  law  must  have  been  the  result  of 
a  series  of  happy  chances.  Atoms  floated  about  in 
space,  solitary  and  aimless,  until  certain  atoms  hap- 
pened so  to  impinge  upon  one  another  as  to  form 
the  first  living  and  self-propagating  organic  cell. 
But  whence  came  the  life  of  that  cell  ?  Whence 
its  capacity  of  multiplying  and  transmitting  life? 
Moreover,  had  that  cell,  or  any  number  of  the 
cells  derived  from  it,  the  power  to  arrest  the  mad 
whirl  of  the  primitive  atoms,  and  to  transmute  the 
chaos  into  a  cosmos?  There  were  myriads  of 
chances  to  one  against  the  formation  of  the  first 
cell ;  the  chances  against  the  formation  of  the 
second  and  of  every  succeeding  cell  were  still 
more  numerous ;  and  you  must  belt  the  solar  sys- 
tem with  figures,  to  represent  the  chances  against 
the  completed  system,  the  established  supremacy  of 


304  THE  CBEATOR. 

law.  Were  half  a  dozen  dice  to  show  the  same 
face  in  two  consecutive  throws,  we  should  pro- 
nounce them  all  loaded.  There  must  have  been 
myriads  upon  myriads  of  throws  with  loaded  dice 
to  bring  these  chaotic  world-forces  into  order. 

Law  imphes  mind,  will,  co-ordinating  intelli- 
gence and  power.  If  we  suppose  a  supreme 
creative  Intelligence,  there  is  no  portion  of  the 
structure  and  administration  of  the  universe  that 
is  left  unexplained,  and  there  is  no  other  hypoth- 
esis that  solves  the  problem.  This  solution  is 
demanded  no  less  by  the  theory  of  evolution  than 
by  that  of  specific  creation.  If  the  primeval 
monads,  by  the  law  of  their  nature,  possessed  the 
power  of  evolving  all  the  existing  types  of  life, 
sensation,  thought,  feeling,  aspiration,  that  law 
must  have  been  imposed  upon  them  by  an  intel- 
ligent Lawgiver.  If  the  speck  of  mould,  which 
may  have  been  one  of  man's  far-off  progenitors, 
had  in  it  that  which  would  of  its  own  nature 
grow  into  reason,  will,  virtue,  into  all  that  man  is 
or  ever  can  be,  this  must  have  been  by  the  action 
of  intelligence,  purpose,  and  power,  not  by  un- 
knowing and  irresponsible  chance. 

There  are  yet  other  reasons  which  constrain  us 
to  believe  in  an  intelligent  Creator.  I  lay  no 
stress  on  the  mere  fact  of  the  mutual  adaptation 
and    harmony   that  prevail   throughout   the   uni- 


THE  CREATOR.  305 

verse ;  for  spontaneous  developments  from  a  kin- 
dred source  would  naturally  bear  to  one  another 
relations  that  would  indicate  their  belonging  to 
the  same  system.  If  all  portions  of  the  uni- 
verse —  inorganic,  organized  and  living  —  are 
fitted,  each  to  each  and  each  to  all,  as  every 
bolt,  screw,  rod,  and  pivot  of  a  steam-engine  is 
fitted  to  every  other;  or  if  some  parts  are  the 
necessary  products  of  others,  as  the  finished  cloth 
is  the  product  of  the  combined  action  of  the  spin- 
dle, loom,  and  dyeing  vat  upon  wool, — this  might 
be  accounted  for  —  at  least  as  easily  as  the  be- 
ginning to  be  —  on  the  theory  of  spontaneous 
development.  But  these  analogies  very  imper- 
fectly represent  things  as  the}''  are.  There  are, 
within  the  great  whole,  numerous  sub-systems, 
sets  of  machinery  (if  I  may  continue  the  figure 
already  employed),  microcosms,  either  independent 
of  one  another,  or  acting  on  one  another  gener- 
ally, not  specifically;  and  these  separate  sub- 
systems, and  all  the  parts  of  each,  are  adapted  to 
one  another,  not  as  parts  and  parts  of  a  machine, 
nor  as  a  machine  and  its  products ;  but  as  any 
number  of  clocks  of  different  workmanship  that 
should  keep  time  together,  or  as  musical  instru- 
ments of  every  variety  of  material,  compass,  and 
tone,  that  should  preserve  harmony  in  an  orches- 
tra, —  an   adaptation,  not  of   the   ball-and-socket 

T 


806  THE  CREATOR. 

order,   but   of    what   I   might   term    independent 
parallelism. 

A  single  instance  may  suffice  to  illustrat-e  my 
meaning.  The  eye  is  adapted  to  light.  But  the 
eye  cannot  be  the  product  of  light.  Light  could 
not,  though  acting  upon  an  interminable  series  of 
generations,  bore  the  orifice  in  the  forehead,  in  an 
analogous  position  with  reference  to  the  brain  in 
every  creature,  round  the  pupil,  stretch  the  retina, 
secrete  the  humors,  develop  the  eyelid  and  the 
lash ;  nor,  unless  under  the  ordering  of  a  liigher 
Intelligence,  could  there  be  any  action  of  the  crea- 
tures themselves  with  reference  to  light.  There 
was  a  time,  according  to  the  theory,  when  the 
creatures  were  all  eyeless.  In  that  condition  there 
could  have  been  no  knowledge  of  light,  no  yearn- 
ing and  striving  for  it,  no  instinctive  effort  to 
realize  experiences  of  which  there  could  have 
been  no  possible  presage  or  intimation.  It  hardly 
needs  to  be  said  that,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
development  of  the  organ  in  the  living  being 
could  not  have  had  the  remotest  agency  in  the 
production  of  Ught.  There  is  manifestly  between 
light  and  the  eye  no  more  relation  of  part  and 
part  than  between  the  eye  and  a  printed  book,  no 
more  relation  of  cause  and  effect  than  between  the 
e^^e  and  the  opera-glass.  Physically,  light  and 
the  eye  belong  to  different  systems,  to  different 


TEE   CREATOR,  307 

sequences  of  cause  and  effect ;  and  yet  their 
mutual  adaptation  is  as  perfect  as  if  light  were 
a  conscious  artificer,  and  had  created  the  eye  ex- 
pressly as  its  own  recipient  and  beneficiary. 

Now  adaptations  of  this  class,  adaptations  with- 
out causation  or  causal  connection,  grow  continu- 
ally on  our  investigation,  and  it  is  one  of  the  chief 
labors  of  modern  science  to  discover  and  verify 
them.  They  imply  a  personal  Intelligence.  These 
multiform,  yet  perfectly  accordant  harmonies,  nu- 
merous beyond  thought,  with  never  a  discordant 
note,  cannot  have  been  evolved  by  chance,  by  the 
fortuitous  concourse  of  atoms,  by  automatic  forces 
of  nature,  by  law  without  a  law-giver,  by  a  (so- 
called)  God  who  awoke  not  to  self-consciousness 
till  the  last,  the  master  chord  was  stretched  and 
strung.  They  can  have  been  struck  only  by  a 
living,  conscious,  omniscient,  and  all-mighty  Crea- 
tor ;  and  the  ceaseless  burden  of  their  melody,  the 
sound  that  goes  out  through  all  the  earth,  the 
anthem-note  that  vibrates  through  the  universe, 
is,  "  The  Lord  God  Omnipotent  reigueth." 

Not  only  are  these  mutual  adaptations  to  be 
traced  between  different  sub-systems  in  the  system 
of  universal  nature,  —  there  are  also  numerous 
tokens  of  specific  design.  The  argument  from 
design  has  been  so  loosely  and  feebly  employed  as 
to  have  won  a  bad  name  which  it  does  not  merit. 


308  THE  CREATOR. 

Mere  seeming  fitness  does  not  prove  design ;  for 
beings  and  objects  spontaneously  placed  in  juxta- 
position must  either  have  become  fitted  to  one  an- 
other, or  have  perished.  Nor  yet  does  use  indicate 
design ;  for  it  is  always  conceivable  that  the  use 
may  have  grown  out  of  the  existence  of  the  object 
used,  instead  of  being  the  antecedent  reason,  the 
final  cause,  for  its  existence.  But  there  are  cases 
in  which  an  undoubted  and  essential  end  is  at- 
tained by  means  so  numerous,  so  harmonious,  so 
appropriate,  so  peculiar,  as  to  indicate  express  con- 
trivance, and  to  be  inexplicable  on  any  other  hy- 
pothesis. Thus,  in  the  family  of  the  pitcher-plants, 
which  literally  need  and  crave  animal  food,  each 
species  has  not  a  simple,  but  an  elaborate  apparatus 
for  taking  its  prey.  In  one  species,  for  instance, 
there  is  a  secretion  of  a  saccharine  fluid,  which  not 
only  rests  in  the  bowl  of  the  hollow  leaf  or  petiole, 
but  is  exuded  in  tiny  drops  on  the  outer  surface  of 
the  pitcher,  along  which  the  insect  is  beguiled  into 
the  interior,  where  he  encounters  minute  bristles 
pointing  inward,  from  which  he  cannot  disengage 
himself.  Meanwhile,  the  liquid  which  attracts  him, 
serves  as  a  narcotic,  and  is  found  on  experiment  to 
have  a  chemical  action  analogous  to  that  of  the 
gastric  juice  in  animals.  Thus  by  the  easiest  pos- 
sible mode  of  death  there  is  a  slight  depletion  of 
the  superabundant  insect-life,  to  nourish  a  life,  of 


THE  CREATOR.  309 

which  the  most  beautiful  and  noteworthy  species 
is  found  on  mountains  in  California,  whose  arid 
soil  under  a  rainless  summer  sky  would  fail  to 
yield  the  necessary  elements  for  a  vegetation  like 
that  of  the  plains  below.  How  any  freak  of  spon- 
taneous evolution  could  have  beguiled  into  those 
mountain-regions  a  branch  of  a  family  most  of 
whose  members  prefer  bogs  and  meadows,  and 
enabled  it  to  organize  there  in  its  stress  of  need  so 
efficient  a  commissariat,  is  a  problem  which  we 
cannot  begin  to  solve.  We,  indeed,  know  not  tlie 
purposes  which  the  family  of  pitcher-plants  may 
serve  in  the  economy  of  creation.  Perhaps  it 
serves  no  purpose  except  to  awaken  wonder  and 
admiration.  Yet  there  are  so  many  features  in  its 
construction  that  cannot  by  any  possibility  have 
been  produced  either  by  the  plant's  appetency  for 
insects  or  by  their  flocking  to  the  Circsean  cup,  as 
to  carry  our  thoughts  of  necessity  to  a  designing 
Mind,  whose  purposes  we  may  not  fathom,  but 
whose  methods  alone  suffice  to  indicate  purpose 
and  an  unbounded  fertility  of  resource  for  its  real- 
ization. 

This  same  argument  may  be  legitimately  ex- 
tended to  the  structures  formed  by  various  ani- 
mals ;  tlie  eagle's  and  the  swallow's  nest,  the 
beaver's  dam,  the  cell  of  the  bee,  and  unnumbered 
curious    types    of    bird   and   insect    architecture. 


810  THE  CREATOR. 

When  we  find  in  such  structures  the  practical 
solution  of  mathematical  problems  which  it  took 
man  some  thousands  of  years  to  solve  ;  when  we 
see  in  the  works  of  these  builders  a  surer  and  safer 
wisdom  than  human  architects  have  ever  reached ; 
and  when  we  consider  that,  according  to  the  evolu- 
tion-theory, man  has  passed  through  the  forms  of 
not  a  few  of  these  sagacious  animals,  yet,  if  he  has 
retained  "  the  mark  of  the  beast  "  (as  we  are  told 
he  has),  has  lost  their  skill,  —  we  find  it  impossi- 
ble to  imagine  that  such  artistical  capacity  resides 
where  there  seems  to  be  neither  reasoning,  consec- 
utive thought,  nor  even  clear  self-ccfusciousness. 
We  cannot  believe  this  multiform  carpentrj^  of 
beast,  bird,  and  insect  to  be  mere  development, 
else  it  would  have  developed  into  something  truer 
and  better  of  its  kind  in  man.  It  must  of  neces- 
sity be  the  work  of  mind,  and  if  so,  of  the  Mind 
that  works  equally  through  the  limbs  and  organs 
of  the  living  animal,  and  the  rootlets  and  leaves  of 
the  living  flower. 

I  add  but  one  more  argument.  Beauty  in  the 
universe  is  an  infallible  token  of  a  personal  Crea- 
tor. If  creation  be  evolution,  and  nothing  more, 
there  would  be  no  development  not  generated  by 
necessity,  subservient  to  use,  and  Subsidiary  to  the 
perfection  of  the  several  species  of  organized  being. 
The  development  of  the  sense  of  beauty  in  man 


THE  CREATOR.  311 

would  account  only  for  his  embodiment  of  the 
beautiful  in  his  own  creations,  not  for  the  out- 
raying  of  it  in  portions  of  the  universe  which 
neither  act  on  him  nor  are  acted  on  by  him.  Yet 
in  regions  where  man  is  only  a  casual  wayfarer,  in 
fields  of  space  of  which  he  is  only  a  very  far-off 
spectator,  in  spots  which,  but  for  his  overpowering 
appetency  for  beauty,  he  would  lack  the  courage 
and  enterprise  to  penetrate,  are  seen  forms  and 
hues  of  intense  and  transcendent  loveliness,  — 
scenes  and  objects  which  have  no  use  whatever 
except  to  satisfy  the  aesthetic  nature,  —  which  are 
entirely  out  of  any  conceivable  line  of  develop- 
ment, can  have  been  educed  by  no  necessity,  and 
can  have  no  possible  issue  other  than  the  admiring 
and  adoring  thoughts  which  they  awaken. 

I  want  to  lay  stress  on  this  argument.  The 
theory  of  specific  creation  has  been  sneeringiy 
termed  the  carpenter-theory,  and  may  in  its  more 
literal  forms  have  given  some  ground  for  the  cavil ; 
but  the  evolution-theory,  when  held  without  faith 
in  God,  much  better  deserves  the  name,  though  its 
carpenter  be  impersonal.  Plain  joiner- work  is  all 
that  it  can  possibly  do,  and  that  only  under  the 
spur  of  need,  —  the  work  to  be  preserved  only 
because  of  its  close  fitness  to  the  need.  Grandeur, 
beauty,  whatever  appeals  to  the  sentiments,  the 
imagination,  the  emotional  nature,  must  lie  entirely 


312  THE   CREATOR. 

out  of  the  scope  of  spontaneous  evolution;  for 
there  is  nothing  on  the  earth  from  which  it  can  be 
evolved,  except  the  soul  of  man,  and  we  know  that 
it  existed  ages  u^^on  ages  before  man  began  to  be. 

What  is  the  result  of  our  discussion  ?  Not,  by 
any  means,  the  disproval  of  evolution,  as  God's 
method  of  creation.  This  theory  must  stand  or 
fall  on  scientific  grounds  alone.  But  we  have  seen 
that  evolution  without  God  cannot  account  for 
things  as  they  are,  — that  there  is  a  Supreme  and 
Almighty  Creator,  without  whose  formative  im- 
press creation  could  not  have  taken  place,  and  of 
whose  wisdom,  goodness,  beauty-breathing,  joy- 
giving  Spirit  we  have  manifold  and  numberless 
tokens,  —  the  vestiges  of  God  in  nature. 


THE  SPIRIT  IN  MAN.  313 


XXY. 

THE  SPIRIT    IN   MAN. 
"  There  is  a  spirit  in  man."  —  Job  xxxii.  8. 

OO  say  religionists  of  almost  every  type.  So, 
^^  with  few  dissentients,  says  the  unanimous 
voice  of  the  Christian  church.  We  can,  indeed, 
define  spirit  only  by  negations ;  but  the  negations 
are  positive,  inasmuch  as  it  is  the  limitations  and 
imperfections  of  matter  that  they  deny.  Spirit, 
though  it  uses  material  organs  and  implements,  is 
distinct  from  them,  their  owner  and  master;  it  can 
do  many  things  without  their  aid  ;  it  may  survive 
its  dependence  upon  them  ;  and  were  they  all 
swept  out  of  being,  it  might  still  remain  in  being, 
—  its  life  unmarred  by  "  the  wrecks  of  matter  and 
the  crush  of  worlds." 

Modern  science  derives  man's  parentage  from 
what  we  have  been  accustomed  to  call  the  lower 
orders  of  beings.  I  confess  a  strong  preference  for 
the  genealogy  whose  two  concluding  links  are, 
"  Which  was  the  son  of  Adam,  which  was  the  son 
of  God."  But  so  far  as  mere  physical  lineage  is 
14 


814  THE  SPIRIT  IN  MAN. 

concerned,  the  question  belongs  to  scientists  rather 
than  to  theologians.  Whatever  man's  origin  may 
have  been,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  he  possesses 
many  physical  characteristics  in  common  vrith 
the  liigher  animals,  and  some  in  common  with  all, 
and  on  any  theory  we  should  expect  to  find  this 
the  case  ;  for  man  has  the  same  material  condi- 
tions, surroundings,  and  necessities  with  his  hum- 
bler fellow-beings. 

But  is  tliere  in  man  an  immaterial,  supra-mate- 
rial consciousness,  in  which  he  differs  from  the 
brutes,  not  in  degree  alone,  but  in  kind,  —  some- 
thing which  is  not  their  instinct  refined  and  ex- 
alted, but  into  which  instinct  could  never  grow, — 
occupying  a  range  of  thought,  knowledge,  and 
aspiration  which  to  the  brute  is  and  ever  will  be 
an  unexplored  region  ?  Tliis  question  we  will  now 
attempt  to  answer. 

I  shall  say  nothing  of  consciousness,  of  memory, 
of  sensation  and  the  knowledge  of  its  objects  ;  for 
these  are  generally  regarded  as  belonging  to  the 
brutes,  though  there  are  some  symptoms,  in  scien- 
tific circles,  of  the  revival  of  the  hypothesis  of 
Descartes,  that  the  life  of  the  brute  is  not  in  any 
degree  self-conscious,  but  purely  vegetative  and 
automatic. 

The  first  difference  between  man  and  the  brutes 
which  arrests  our  attention  is  man's  power  of  prog- 


THE  SPIRIT  IN  MAN.  315 

ress,  as  manifested  both  individually  and  collec- 
tively. Other  animals  either  are  born  with  an 
entire  fitness  for  their  functions  and  their  destiny, 
or  in  a  very  brief  period  attain  that  fitness  and 
never  transcend  it.  The  swallow  builds  as  good  a 
nest  the  first  spring  of  his  life  as  he  will  ever  build. 
Whatever  the  animal  acquires  of  knowledge  or 
skill  grows  from  the  material  conditions  under 
which  he  lives.  Given  his  antecedents  and  sur- 
roundings, you  can  describe  his  orbit,  and  you 
know  that  he  will  never  pass  a  hairs-breadth  be- 
yond it.  But  man's  antecedents  and  surroundings 
do  not  furnish  the  first  elements  for  calculating 
his  orbit,  which  may  intersect  the  outermost  circle 
of  the  material  system  to  which  he  belongs,  and 
stretch  on  into  the  unmapped  region  beyond,  as 
the  comet  wings  its  flight  into  depths  of  space  re- 
moter than  the  planet's  round. 

Man,  also,  alone  of  all  animals,  grows  collec- 
tively, and  from  generation  to  generation.  Other 
animals  have  repeated  the  life  of  their  ancestors 
for  the  entire  period  for  which  man  has  known 
them,  with  no  change  except  the  very  limited 
modification  of  instinctive  habitudes  produced  by 
man,  in  purely  physical  methods,  by  arranging  ex- 
ternal conditions  with  reference  to  the  desired  end, 
—  conditions  which  must  be  maintained  with  sedu- 
lous care,   else  the  improved  race  reverts  to  the 


816  THE  SPIRIT  IN  MAN. 

common  level  of  its  kind.  But  each  generation  of 
men  mounts  on  the  shoulders  of  that  which  pre- 
ceded it.  Facts  are  epitomized  into  principles ; 
knowledge  is  condensed  into  general  truths ;  and 
the  acquisitions  of  a  thousand  years  are  carried  by 
the  child  from  the  primary  school. 

There  is  no  physical  peculiarity  of  man  that  can 
account  for  this  power  of  progress.  Is  it  ascribed 
to  speech  ?  Speech,  as  a  medium  for  the  trans- 
mission of  knowledge,  thought,  and  feeling,  is  not 
a  physical  instrumentality,  but  one  appertaining  to 
that  in  man  the  like  of  which  exists  nowhere  else 
upon  the  earth.  Had  not  man  the  power  of  artic- 
ulation, with  his  mental  capacity  the  same  as  now, 
he  would  make  the  modulation  of  his  roar,  bark,  or 
howl  significant  of  the  entire  gamut  of  sensibility, 
and  even  of  abstract  thought ;  or  he  would  shape 
a  visible  language,  and  put  it  into  legible  writing. 
The  mental  ability  to  talk  would  somehow  create 
language,  whether  there  were  or  were  not  organs 
of  speech ;  while  birds  that  can  articulate  as  dis- 
tinctly and  as  volubly  as  man,  cannot  make  their 
language  a  medium  for  the  mutual  communication 
of  thought  or  sentiment.  A  community  of  trained 
parrots,  if  transported  beyond  the  reach  of  man, 
would  lose  what  words  they  knew  in  the  second 
generation  ;  a  community  of  civilized  dumb  men 
and  women  would  in  the  second  generation  possess 


THE  SPIRIT  IN  MAN.  817 

a  sign-language  amply  adequate  to  their  needs, 
and  would  have  begun  to  create  a  permanent  lit- 
erature. 

Nor  can  the  human  hand  account  for  man's 
progress.  The  hand,  indeed,  in  range  and  versa- 
tility of  movement,  power,  and  use,  surpasses  every 
other  organ  of  animal  structure  and  every  instru- 
ment of  man's  device  ;  but  Ave  have  among  our 
supposed  kindred  on  the  monkey-side  some  species 
of  apes  whose  hands  seem  to  lack  no  physical 
capacity  or  adaptation  that  belongs  to  the  human 
hand,  yet  which  are  as  unprogressive  as  the  mole 
or  the  snail. 

Man's  power  of  progress  is  due  to  causes  wholly 
unconnected  with  his  physical  development  and 
with  the  possibilities  of  material  consciousness. 
We  have  no  proof  that  other  animals  have  any 
knowledge,  except  that  which  comes  to  them  im- 
mediately through  the  senses.  They  evince  no 
apprehension  of  principles,  of  multitudinous,  com- 
prehensive facts,  of  general  truths.  They  show 
merely  an  accurate  knowledge  of  material  facts  and 
phenomena,  which  is  the  utmost  that  can  be  ac- 
counted for  on  any  theory  of  material  conscious- 
ness. Man's  superiority  consists  in  his  capacity  for 
supersensual  ideas,  and  these  cannot  be  elaborated 
by  any  conceivable  material  apparatus.  The  senses 
convey  facts,  not  truths ;  and  if  sensation  is  the  sole 


318  TEE  SPIRIT  IN  MAN. 

source  of  knowledge,  and  a  material  sensormm  the 
sole  receptacle  and  depository  of  knowledge,  facts 
are  all  that  can  be  known.  The  senses  can  take 
no  cognizance  of  a  class  or  a  law,  —  of  the  essential 
resemblances  which  may  group  together  objects  or 
phenomena  that  on  a  superficial  view  present  only 
unlikeness.  A  class  or  a  law  is  not  an  object  of 
sensation.  It  is  an  idea  which  has  no  counterpart 
in  actual  existence,  and  therefore  cannot  be  per- 
ceived by  the  organs  of  sense,  or  recognized  by  a 
merely  material  consciousness.  Yet  man  with  his 
mental  vision  sees  a  class  or  a  law  as  distinctly  as 
the  eye  discerns  an  individual  object ;  and,  still 
farther,  by  higher  stages  of  abstraction  and  gen- 
eralization, he  resolves  clusters  of  classes  into  more 
comprehensive  classes,  fascicles  of  laws  into  single 
laws  of  a  broader  scope,  till  in  every  department 
he  seizes  upon  some  one  unifying  principle,  under 
which  all  the  classes  may  be  grouped,  or  to  which 
all  the  laws  may  be  referred.  He  then  from  these 
principles  deduces  inferences,  which  the  senses 
could  never  have  discovered,  and  which  are  veii- 
fied  only  by  that  minute  observation  and  analysis 
in  which  the  senses,  if  concerned  in  any  degree, 
bear  but  an  inferior  part.  Nor  is  this  all.  Man 
attains  a  large  part  of  what  he  knows  and  trans- 
mits by  virtue  of  the  imaginative  facult}^,  which 
suggests  questions,  experiments,  methods  by  which 


THE  SPIRIT  IN  MAN.  319 

nature  is,  as  it  were,  put  to  the  torture  for  her 
secrets.  This  entire  imaginative  apparatus  is  su- 
persensuaL  Its  processes  are  such  as  we  cannot 
conceive  of  as  being  performed  by  the  highest  ani- 
mal instinct  with  which  we  are  acquainted,  liow- 
ever  greatly  developed  and  enlarged  in  its  present 
direction.  In  fine,  man's  superior  capacity  of 
knowledge,  the  elements  of  his  progress,  the  truths 
which  he  perpetually  elaborates,  epitomizes,  and 
transmits  condensed  and  in  a  portable  form,  are  all 
supersensual,  —  such  as  cannot  be  due  to  sensation 
however  delicate,  to  perception  however  keen,  to 
material  consciousness  however  intensified  and 
refined. 

I  would,  in  the  next  place,  maintain  that  the 
phenomena  of  man's  moral  nature  cannot  be  de- 
rived from  his  material  organization.  Of  all  beings 
on  the  earth,  man  alone  cognizes  the  distinction 
between  right  and  wrong.  Fidelity  to  a  master 
is  the  nearest  approach  to  virtue  made  by  any 
other  animal.  This  fidelity  has  no  moral  law  or 
limit.  The  dog  with  equal  complacency  obeys  a 
gentle  or  a  savage  master,  guards  his  owner's  or 
depredates  on  his  neighbor's  property.  The  noble 
St-  Bernard  dog,  who  by  day  delights  all  gaests 
and  comers  with  his  high-bred  courtesy,  and  seems 
to  lack  only  erect  form  and  speech  to  be  the  very 
mirror  of  gentlemanly  bearing,  will  slink  away  at. 


320  THE   SPIRIT  IN  MAN. 

nightfall  to  drink  the  blood  of  some  stray  sheep 
that  he  has  spotted  in  a  distant  pasture.  Yet  it 
is  of  the  very  attributes  that  are  common  to  us 
and  the  doo:  that  the  materialist  constructs  man's 
moral  nature.  Let  us  see  how  he  builds.  Let  us 
pass  in  review  the  materialistic  theory  of  morals. 

The  first  question  in  ethics,  whether  theoretical 
or  practical,  concerns  the  nature  of  moral  distinc- 
tions, —  the  essential  difference  between  the  right 
and  the  wrong.  According  to  the  material  phil- 
osophy, the  child,  and  equally  society  in  its  infancy, 
learns  to  discriminate  between  acts  Avhich  will 
give  immediate  pleasure  and  those  which  will  cause 
immediate  pain,  and  of  necessity  approves  the  for- 
mer and  condemns  the  latter.  More  mature  expe- 
rience and  observation  show  that  certain  kinds  of 
acts,  at  first  pleasurable,  produce  ultimately  more 
pain  than  pleasure,  and  that  certain  kinds  of  acts, 
painful  or  not  pleasurable  at  the  outset,  produce 
ultimately  more  pleasure  than  pain.  The  former 
in  process  of  time  come  to  be  regarded  as  vices, 
the  latter  as  virtues.  Still  farther,  at  a  higher 
stage  of  progress,  man  finds  that  his  own  capacity 
of  procuring  for  himself  pleasurable  sensations  is 
limited,  often  obstructed,  often  interfered  with  by 
others  ;  and  it  becomes. manifest  that  if  the  means 
of  pleasure  be  put  into  a  common  stock,  to  which 
every  man  contributes  to  his  full  ability,  and  from 


THE   SPIRIT  IN  MAN.  321 

which  every  man  may  draw  to  his  fall  need,  each 
individual  member  of  the  community  is  sure  of  the 
largest  possible  dividend  of  pleasure,  with  the  en- 
tire community  for  a  guarantee.  Hence  the  great- 
est good  of  the  greatest  number  becomes  the 
ultimate  standard  of  right  and  criterion  of  virtue. 
It  must  be  acknowledged  that  this  is  but  a  brutish 
type  of  virtue  ;  yet  it  is  as  high  as  materialism  can 
reach.  But  your  own  consciousness  tells  you  that 
its  pleasure-yielding  capacity  is  only  an  incident, 
not  the  essence  of  virtue.  Every  developed  moral 
nature  knows  and  feels  that  there  are  things  in 
themselves  fitting  and  right,  that  there  are  things 
in  themselves  unfitting  and  wrong,  and  that  an 
eternity  of  happiness  consequent  upon  it  could  not 
make  a  lie,  or  a  fraud,  or  an  act  of  cruelty  virtuous. 
It  was  such  human  nature  as  there  is  in  3'ou  and 
me  that  has  embalmed  in  a  tragedy  Avhich  the 
world  will  never  let  die,  Prometheus  chained  to 
eternal  torture  for  his  benefits  to  man  ;  and  were 
the  order  of  the  universe  such  that  a  Prometheus 
could  be  thus  doomed  by  despotic  omnipotence,  no 
stress  of  the  divine  will  and  no  intensity  of  suffer- 
ing in  threat  or  in  experience  could  convert  you 
or  me,  or  any  human  being  not  prepossessed  by 
a  theory,  from  sympathy  with  the  world's  benefac- 
tor to  reverence  for  its  tyrant. 

We  come  next   to  the  materialistic  theory  of 
U*  u 


322  THE  SPIRIT  IN  MAN. 

conscience,  which,  it  is  alleged,  results  solely  from 
the  observation  of  what  is  aj^provecl  and  what  is 
disapproved,  first,  by  parents,  then  by  society  and 
mankind  at  large.  Conscience  is  thus  made  a 
superficial  organ,  and  the  growth  of  experience 
alone.  It  is  enough  to  say  that  this  theory  fails  to 
account  equally  for  the  tenderness,  delicacy,  and 
perspicacity  of  conscience  frequently  witnessed  in 
very  young  children,  and  for  those  pioneer  con- 
sciences, in  advance —  out  of  sight  —  of  their  com- 
munity or  age,  without  whose  clear  and  deep 
vision  reform  and  moral  progress  would  be  im- 
possible. 

We  are  not  surprised  to  find  moral  obligation 
almost  ignored  in  the  ethics  of  materialism.  Bain 
makes  external  authority  the  sole  ground  of  obli- 
gation, which  he  restricts  to  actions  enforced  by 
the  sanction  of  punishment;  and  John  Stuart  Mill 
regards  the  experience  or  apprehension  of  pain  as 
alone  capable  of  creating  that  sense  of  obligation, 
which  is  implied  in  the  use  of  the  word  ought  and 
kindred  terms.  If  we  are  merely  material  beings, 
this  is  a  sound  theory,  —  the  pains  and  penalties 
of  violated  law  are  our  only  possible  motives  to 
reluctant  obedience  ;  and  we  cannot  sufB.ciently 
admire  the  anticipation  of  the  advanced  philosophy 
of  a  later  age  in  the  realistic  method  of  ethical 
instruction  described  in  the  book  of  Judges,  when 


THE  SPIRIT  IN  MAN.  323 

Gideon  "  took  thorns  of  the  wilderness  and  briars, 
and  with  them  taught  the  men  of  Succotli."  But 
our  own  consciousness  negatives  this  view  of  obli- 
gation ;  for  can  there  be  a  stronger  sense  of  obliga- 
tion than  is  felt  by  the  truly  religious  man  as  to 
his  duties  to  God  ?  —  a  sentiment,  too,  only  the  more 
constant  and  imperative  when  the  element  of  fear 
is  entirely  eliminated.  The  sense  of  obligation  is, 
also,  often  intense  and  tender  in  childhood,  prior 
to  any  experience  or  knowledge  of  penalty. 

We  thus  see  that  materialism  fails  to  account  for 
the  phenomena  of  man's  moral  nature.  Still  less 
can  it  account  for  his  religious  experiences  and 
aspirations.  It  presents  the  manifest  absurdity  of 
a  purely  material  being  evolving  from  his  senses 
and  his  physical  structure  a  consciousness  purely 
spiritual,  —  a  felt  communion  and  personal  kindred 
with  a  Being  not  by  any  possibility  cognizable  by 
the  organs  of  sense,  not  even  cogitable  by  a  merely 
material  consciousness  ;  for  the  idea  of  spiritual 
existence  is  necessarily  beyond  the  scope  of  a  being 
who  is  himself  unconscious  of  spiritual  existence. 

We  conclude,  then,  that  natural  science,  even 
though  its  recent  speculations  as  to  man's  material 
derivation  were  admitted  as  proved  and  established 
verities,  cannot  detach  his  hold  upon  the  ancestral 
tree  which  traces  his  parentage  from  God,  and  of 
which,  among  the  progeny  of  the  second  Adam,  he. 


324  TEE  SPIRIT  IN  MAN. 

may  become  a  living  branch.  We  may  abandon  to 
science  the  whole  field  of  ethnology  and  physi- 
ology. No  race  can  make  out  an  unbroken  pedi- 
gree, nor  can  we  deny  that  there  are,  as  I  have 
said,  striking  analogies,  nay,  even  resemblances, 
between  the  higher  orders  of  quadrupeds  and  the 
lower  members  of  the  human  family. 

Yet  from  these  most  brute-like  among  men  may 
be  drawn  the  most  cogent  argument  for  the^exist- 
ence  and  indestructibleness  of  the  spiritual  element 
in  man.  Sixty  years  ago  the  half-reasoning  ele- 
phant or  the  tractable  and  troth-keeping  dog  might 
have  seemed  the  peer,  or  more,  of  tlie  unreasoning 
and  conscienceless  Hawaiian.  From  that  very 
race,  from  that  ver}^  generation,  with  which  the 
nobler  brutes  might  have  scorned  to  claim  kindred, 
have  been  developed  the  peers  of  saints  and  angels. 
Does  not  the  susceptibility  of  a  regeneration  so 
radical,  the  cajDacity  for  all  that  is  tender,  beauti- 
ful, and  glorious  in  the  humanity  of  him  whom  we 
Christians  revere  as  the  Lord  from  heaven,  inher- 
ent in  even  the  lowest  types  of  our  race,  of  itself 
claim  for  man  a  nature  which  the  brutes  around 
liim  share  as  little  in  kind  as  in  degree  ?  Has 
physical  science  a  right  to  leave  the  "  new  man  in 
Christ  Jesus,"  which  the  most  squalid  savage  may 
become,  entirely  unaccounted  for  in  its  theory  of 
spontaneous    development  ?      When    the   modern. 


THE  SPIBIT  IN  MAN,  825 

Liicretianism  can  explain  tlie  phenomena  con- 
nected with  the  Christian  salvation  and  mani- 
fested in  the  lives  of  its  conscious  recipients, 
without  the  intervention  of  miracle,  revelation,  or 
Redeemer,  then,  and  not  till  then,  can  it  demand 
our  acceptance  as  a  tenable  theory  of  the  entire 
realm  of  living  being. 

Meanwhile,  let  not  Religion  pronounce  dogmat- 
ically on  questions  of  mere  science.  She  has  her 
region  of  spiritual  being,  interpreted  by  Christian 
consciousness,  under  the  full  rays  of  an  illumining 
gospel.  Law  is  undoubtedlj^  supreme  ;  but  there 
are  spiritual  laws  interpenetrating  the  whole  realm 
of  material  causes,  —  while  not  neutralizing  or  su- 
perseding them,  their  greater  and  more  venerable 
complement.  Let  us  accept  the  well-founded  de- 
ductions of  Science  in  her  whole  sphere  ;  but  in 
those  regions  of  truth  to  which  she  can  onl}^  point 
with  trembling  finger  and  with  awe-dimmed  eye, 
let  us  rejoice  that  One  has  trodden  our  earth,  who 
was  found  worthy  to  loose  the  seals  and  to  open 
the  book. 

Moreover,  in  Jesus  Christ  himself  we  find  the 
strongest  of  all  arguments  against  the  theory  of 
material  evolution  as  applicable  to  the  higher  por- 
tions of  man's  nature.  We  have,  as  most  of  us 
undoubtedly  believe,  ample  historical  evidence 
that  there  existed  upon  the  earth  more  than  eigh- 


826  TEE   SPIRIT  IN  MAN. 

teen  hundred  years  ago,  a  being  who  presented  in 
his  own  person  all  imaginable  excellencies,  —  the 
ideal  of  perfect  humanity  embodied.  Even  if  he 
existed  only  in  imagination,  there  were  men  of  that 
age  who  must  have  been  of  kindred  spirit  with 
what  we  believe  him  to  have  been,  in  order  to 
conceive  of  and  to  describe  one  so  far  transcend- 
ing all  that  had  been  before  and  all  that  has  been 
since.  Can  physical  laws,  in  their  unreasoning 
operation,  have  developed,  midway  in  history,  with- 
out any  antecedent  stages  of  progress,  in  a  corrupt 
and  degenerate  age,  such  a  being,  or  such  a  con- 
ception ?  Were  there  no  other  proof  or  token  of 
man's  spiritual  and  God-born  nature,  this  alone 
would  suffice,  —  that  there  has  been  among  those 
who  have  borne  the  semblance  of  humanity  One, 
in  confessing  whom  to  be  the  express  image  of 
God  the  devout  theist  renders  the  highest  hom- 
age that  he  can  pay  to  the  Being  whom  he  adores, 
as  the  Supreme,  the  Omnipotent,  the  All-loving 
Father. 


Cambridge :  Press  of  John  Wilson  &  Son. 


Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers'  Publications. 

THE  CHRISTIAN  IN  THE  WORLD.  By  Rev. 
D.  W.  Faunce.  i6mo.  Price  $1.50.  Contents:  The 
Statement;  The  Method;  Principles;  The  Christian  in 
Prayer;  The  Christian  in  his  Recreations;  The  Christian 
in  his  Business. 

From  the  Boston  Cultivator. 
It  will  be  remembered  that  by  the  will  of  the  late  Hon.  Richard  Fletcher 
a  fund  was  bequeathed  to  Dartmouth  College,  from  the  proceeds  of  which  should 
be  offered  biennially  a  prize  of  $500  for  the  best  essay  on  the  importance  of  holy 
living  on  the  part  of  Christian  professors,  and  to  the  author  of  this  admirably 
■written  work  has  the  prize  been  awarded.  This  earnest,  practical  appeal  for  a 
higher  standard  of  Christian  living  comes  fresh  from  the  heart,  and  we  think 
must  reach  the  heart  and  bring  forth  fruit  in  the  lives  of  those  who  read  it.  In  its 
wi:^e  application  it  comes  to  the  Christian  in  his  business  and  social  relations, 
his  daily  duties  and  recreations,  telling  him  how  in  all  these  varied  relations  he 
can  be  a  "  Christian  in  the  World,"  and  a  blessing  to  his  race. 

From  tJie  Christian  Era. 
But  the  characteristic  of  the  work,  one  which  will  attract  to  it  a  class  of 
intelligent,  spiritual-minded  Christians,  the  unorganized  fraternity  of  the  inner  and 
the  outer  life,  is  its  lofty,  uncompromising,  exhilarating  idealism.  It  exhibits  the 
perfect  man  in  Christ,  and  to  that  picture  it  points  with  the  calm  earnestness  of 
conviction,  though  with  the  humility  and  sympathy  begotten  by  the  consciousness 
of  sin  and  the  remembrance  of  divers  stumblings  in  the  way  of  life. 

From  the  Syracuse  Journal. 
Mr.  Faunce  is  a  clear  and  forcible  wTiter,  whose  name  is  familiar  to  readers 
of  the  Baptist  press,  and  in  this  essay  he  has  most  powerfully  and  practically 
developed  his  subject.  He  first  impresses  the  practicability  and  positiveness 
of  Christian  duty,  demanded  alike  from  Christians  and  busy  men  in  the  world. 
The  first  five  chapters  are  devoted  to  the  Statement,  Method,  and  Principles 
involved,  devoting  the  remaining  chapters  to  the  duty  of  the  Christian  in  Prayer, 
in  his  Recreations,  and  finally  in  his  Business.  The  full,  rich,  practical  suggestions 
contained  in  this  essay,  the  earnest  spirit  which  inspired  it,  and  withal  its  pleasant^ 
flowing  style,  render  it  one  of  the  most  desirable  of  books  on  kindred  topics,  and 
•we  bespeak  for  it  at  least  a  place  in  every  Christian  library. 


Sold  everywhere  by  all  Booksellers.     Mailed^  postpaid^  by 
the  Publishers^ 

ROBERTS   BROTHERS,   Boston. 


Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers^  Publications, 
SINGERS   AND    SONGS    OF  THE    LIBERAL 

FAITH ;  being  selections  of  Hymns  and  other  Sacred 
Poems  of  the  Liberal  Church  in  America,  with  Biograph- 
ical Sketches  of  the  Writers,  and  with  Historical  and 
Illustrative  Notes.  By  Alfred  P.  Putnam.  8vo. 
Price  $3.00. 

From  tJie  New  York  Independent. 

The  service  which  has  been  done  by  Dr.  A.  P.  Putnam,  of  Brooklyn,  to  those 
communions  usually  called  Liberal,  by  compiling  his  beautiful  book  entitled 
"  Singers  and  Songs  of  the  Liberal  Faith,"  is  one  not  easily  exaggerated.  .  .  . 
As  literature,  these  hymns  have  a  high  value  ;  but  they  signify  most  as  expressions 
of  religious  sentiment,  as  devout  utterances  of  trusting  and  aspiring  souls.  .  .  . 
There  is,  as  Dr.  Putnam  reminds  us,  very  little  heresy  in  hymns.  And  we  pity 
the  bigot  who  could  read  this  volume  through  without  feeling  some  drawings  of 
Christian  fraternity  toward  the  people  whose  deepest  life  is  here  so  nobly 
expressed. 

Front  the  L  iheral  Christian. 

It  is  very  creditable  to  the  editor  that  he  has  embraced  so  large  an  area  and 
reaped  the  fruits  of  fields  lying  as  far  apart  as  the  utmost  extremes  of  our  Zion. 
We  find  no  evidence  of  any  partisan  or  school  prejudices  in  his  selections ;  indeed, 
•we  know  no  work  from  which  personal  biases  have  been  more  successfully  or 
creditably  excluded.  In  this  respect.  Dr.  Putnam's  volume  is  a  true  Irenicon, 
a  peacemaker;  sweetly  reconciling  the  discordant  voices  of  denominational 
polemics,  in  the  harmony  accordant  of  song.  We  cannot  doubt  that  the  assem- 
bling of  so  many  and  such  dissimilar  thinkers,  in  one  chorus  of  praise,  is  a  long 
step  towards  a  union  in  higher  sentiments  of  those  temporarily  divided  by 
intellectual  diversities. 

Front  the  Christian  Union. 

The  literary  value  of  Mr.  Putnam's  collection  is  unusually  high,  when  we 
compare  it  with  that  of  other  volumes  of  religious  poetry.  To  our  minds  the 
most  convincing  evidence  of  the  existence  of  reMgious  feeling  among  the  people  is 
the  immense  circulation  of  books  of  religious  verse.  We  speak  from  actual 
knowledge  when  we  say  that  certain  compilations  of  religious  poems  have  sold  in 
greater  numbers  than  the  works  of  the  most  popular  poets.  These  pious  verses 
have,  as  a  rule,  been  entirely  devoid  of  poetic  expression  or  sentiment,  but  their 
subjects  have  reconciled  readers  to  all  literary  defects.  Admirable  as  is  the  spirit 
■which  accepts  such  books,  we  cannot  help  believing  it  would  be  improved  and 
elevated  if  the  same  thoughts  were  presented  in  language  more  poetic;  for 
spirituality  is,  practically,  the  poetry  of  devotion.  We  hope,  therefore,  that  Dr.. 
Putnam's  book  will  be  largely  bought  and  read. 


Sold  everywhere  by  all  Booksellers.     Mailed^  postpaid,  by- 
the  Publishers, 

ROBERTS  BROTHERS,   Boston. 


MESSES.  EOBEETS  BEOTHEES'  PUBLIOATIONS. 


Heaven  our  Home. 

WE   HAVE    NO    SAVIOUR    BUT   JESUS,  AND 
NO  HOME  BUT  HEA  VEN. 

Crown  8vo.     Cloth,  extra.    $1.25. 


OPINIONS    OF   THE   ENGLISH   PRESS. 

"The  author  of  the  volume  before  us  endeavors  to  describe  what  heaven  is,  as 
shown  by  the  light  of  reason  and  Scripture;  and  we  promise  the  reader  many 
charming  pictures  of  heavenly  bliss,  founded  upon  undeniable  authority,  and  de- 
scribed with  the  pen  of  a  dramatist,  which  cannot  fail  to  elevate  the  soul  as  well 
as  to  delight  the  imagination.  .  .  .  Part  Second  proves,  in  a  manner  as  beautiful 
as  it  is  convincing,  the  doctrine  of  the  recognition  of  friends  in  heaven,  — a  subject 
of  which  the  author  makes  much,  introducing  many  touching  scenes  of  Scripture 
celebrities  meeting  in  heaven  and  discoursing  of  their  experience  on  earth.  Part 
Third  demonstrates  the  interest  which  those  in  heaven  feel  in  earth,  and  proves 
with  remarkable  clearness  that  such  an  interest  exists,  not  only  with  the  Almighty 
and  among  the  angels,  but  also  among  the  spirits  of  departed  friends.  We  unhes- 
itatingly give  our  opinion  that  this  volume  is  one  of  the  most  delightful  productions 
of  a  religious  character  which  has  appeared  for  some  time  ;  and  we  would  desire 
to  see  it  pass  into  extensive  circulation." — Glasgow  Herald. 

"  This  work  gives  positive  and  social  views  of  heaven,  as  a  counteraction  to 
the  negative  and  unsocial  aspects  in  which  the  subject  is  so  commonly  presented." 
—  English  Chicrchman. 

"  Amid  the  works  proceeding  from  an  over-teeming  press,  our  attention  has  been 
arrested  by  the  perusal  of  the  above-named  production,  which,  it  seems,  is  wend- 
ing its  way  daily  among  persons  of  all  denominations.  Certainly  *  Heaven  our 
Home.'  whoever  may  be  the  author,  is  no  common  production."  — Airdrit 
Advertiser. 

"  In  boldness  of  conception,  startling  minuteness  of  delineation,  and  originality 
of  illustration,  this  work,  by  an  anonymous  author,  exceeds  any  of  the  kind  we 
have  ever  read."  —  John  C  Groat  Journal. 

"  We  are  not  in  the  least  surprised  at  so  many  thousands  of  copies  of  this 
anonymous  writer's  being  bought  up.  We  seem  to  be  listening  to  a  voice  and  lan- 
guage which  we  never  heard  before.  Matter  comes  at  command  ;  words  flow  with 
unstudied  ease :  the  pages  are  full  of  life,  light,  and  force  ;  and  the  result  is  a 
stirring  volume,  which,  while  the  Christian  critic  pronounces  it  free  from  affecta- 
tion, even  the  man  of  taste,  averse  to  evangelical  religion,  would  admit  to  be  exempt 
from  '  cant.'  "  —  London  Patriot. 

"The  name  of  the  author  of  this  work  is  strangely  enough  withheld  ...  A 
social  heaven,  in  which  there  will  be  the  most  perfect  recoenition,  intercourse,  fel- 
lowship, and  bliss,  is  the  leading  idea  of  the  book,  and  it  is  discussed  in  a  fine, 
genial  spirit."  —  Caledonian  Mercury. 


MESSES.  EGBERTS  BEOTHEES'  PUBLICATIONS. 

Meet  for  Heaven. 

A  STATE  OF   GRACE  UPON  EARTH  THE  ONLY  PREP* 

ARATION    FOR    A    STATE    OP     GLORY 

IN    HEAVEN. 

BY    THE    AUTHOR     OF    "HEAVEN    OUR    HOME." 

Crown  8vo.     Cloth,  extra.     Price  $1.25. 

OPINIONS   OF   THE    ENGLISH   PRESS- 

"This  forms  a  fitting  companion  to  •Heaven  our  Home,'  —  a  volume  which 
has  been  circulated  bj'  thousands,  and  which  has  found  its  way  into  almost  every 
Christian  family."  — Scottish  Press. 

"  What  we  shall  be  hereafter,  —  whether  our  glorified  souls  will  be  like  unto 
our  souls  here,  or  whether  an  entire  change  in  their  spiritual  and  moral  condition 
will  be  effected  after  death,  —  these  are  questions  which  occupy  our  thoughts,  and 
to  these  the  author  has  principally  addressed  himself."  —  Cambridge  Utiiversity 
Chronicle. 

"The  author,  in  his  or  her  former  work,  'Heaven  our  Home,*  portrayed  a 
social  heaven,  where  scattered  families  meet  at  last  in  loving  intercourse  and  in 
possession  of  perfect  recognition,  to  spend  a  never-ending  eternity  of  peace  and 
love.  In  the  present  work  the  individual  state  of  the  children  of  God  is  attempted 
to  be  unfolded,  and,  more  especially,  the  state  of  probation  which  is  set  apart  for 
them  on  earth  to  fit  and  prepare  erring  mortals  for  the  society  of  the  saints.  .  .  . 
The  work,  as  a  whole,  displays  an  originality  of  conception,  a  flow  of  language, 
and  a  closeness  of  reasoning,  rarely  found  in  religious  publications  .  .  .  The 
author  combats  the  pleasing  and  generally  accepted  belief  that  death  will  effect 
an  entire  ciiange  of  the  spiritual  condition  of  our  souls,  and  that  all  who  enter  into 
bliss  will  be  placed  on  a  common  level."  —  Glasgow  Herald. 

"  A  careful  perusal  of  this  book  will  make  it  a  less  easy  thing  for  a  man  to  cheat 
himself  into  the  notion  that  death  will  effect,  not  a  mere  transhion  and  improve- 
ment, but  ail  entire  change  in  his  moral  and  spiritual  state-  'Ihe  dangerous  nature 
of  this  delusion  is  exhibited  with  great  power  by  the  author  of  '  Meet  for  Heaven.' " 
—  Stirli7ig  Observer. 

"This,  like  the  former  volume,  '  Heaven  our  Home,*  by  the  same  anonymous 
author,  is  a  very  remarkable  book.  Often  as  the  subject  has  been  handled,  both 
by  ancient  and  modern  divines,  it  has  never  been  touched  with  a  bolder  or  a  more 
masterly  hand."  —  John  O' Groat  Journal. 


Life  in  Heaven. 

THERE,  FAITH  IS  CHANGED  INTO  SIGHT,  AND  HOPE 
IS   PASSED    INTO    BLISSFUL    FRUITION. 

A  New  Work  by  the  Author  of  "  Heaven  our  Home  "  and 

"  Meet  for  Heaven." 

Crown  8vo.     Cloth,  extra.    Price  $1.25. 

This  new  work  is  a  companion  volume  to  "  Heaven  our  Home,**  and  *  Meet 
for  Heaven,"  and  embraces  a  subject  of  very  great  interest,  which  has  not  been 
inclu  ied  in  these  volumes. 

Tlie  two  works  above  mentioned  have  already  attained  in  England  the  laig« 
sale  of  100,000  copies. 


MESSRS.  ROBERTS  BROTHERS'  PUBLICATIONS. 


The    To-Morrow   of    Death  ; 

OR, 

THE    FUTURE    LIFE    ACCORDING 
TO    SCIENCE. 

By    LOUIS    FIGUIER, 

Tkanslated  from  thb  French,  by  S.  R.  Crockkr.     i  vol.  i6mo.     %\i% 


Front  the  Literary  World. 
As  its  striking,  if  somewhat  sensational  title  indicates,  the  book  deals  with  the 
question  of  the  future  life,  and  purports  to  present  "  a  complete  theory  of  Nature, 
a  true  philosophy  of  the  Universe."  It  is  based  on  the  ascertained  facts  of  science 
which  the  author  marshals  in  such  a  multitude,  and  with  such  skill,  as  must  com- 
mand the  admiration  of  those  who  dismiss  his  theory  with  a  sneer.  We  doubt  if 
the  marvels  of  astronomy  have  ever  had  so  impressive  a  presentation  in  popular 
form  as  they  have  here.  .  .  . 

The  opening  chapters  of  the  book  treat  of  the  three  elements  which  compose 
man,  —  body,  soul,  and  life.  The  first  is  not  destroyed  by  death,  but  simply  changes 
its  form  ;  the  last  is  a  force,  like  light  and  heat,  —  a  mere  state  of  bodies ;  the  soul 
is  indestructible  and  immortal.  After  death,  according  to  M.  Figuier,  the  soul  be- 
comes incarnated  in  a  new  body,  and  makes  part  of  a  new  being  next  superior  to 
man  in  the  scale  of  living  existences,  —  the  superhuman.  This  being  lives  in  the 
e  Jier  which  surrounds  the  earth  and  the  other  planets,  where,  endowed  with  senses 
and  faculties  like  ours,  infinitely  improved,  and  many  others  that  we  know  nothing 
of,  he  leads  a  life  whose  spiritual  delights  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  imagine.  .  .  . 
Those  who  enjoy  speculations  about  the  future  life  will  find  in  this  book  fi-esh  and 
pleasant  food  for  their  imaginations ;  and,  to  those  who  delight  in  the  revelations 
of  science  as  to  the  mysteries  that  obscure  the  origin  and  the  destiny  of  man,  these 
pages  offer  a  gallery  of  novel  and  really  marvellous  views.  We  may,  perhaps,  ex- 
press our  opinion  of  "The  To-Morrow  of  Death  "  at  once  comprehensively  and 
concisely,  by  saying  that  to  every  mind  that  welcomes  light  on  these  grave  ques- 
tions, from  whatever  quarter  and  in  whatever  shape  it  may  come,  regardless  of 
precedents  and  authorities,  this  work  will  yield  exquisite  pleasure.  It  will  shock 
■ome  readers,  and  amaze  many  ;  but  it  will  fascinate  and  impress  all. 


Sold  everyivhere.    Mailed,  post-paid,  by  the  Publish^rs^ 

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Messrs,  Roberts  Brothers^  Puhlications. 

LAOCOON.  An  Essay  upon  the  Limits  of  Painting 
and  Poetry.  With  remarks  illustrative  of  various  points 
in  the  History  of  Ancient  Art.  By  Gotthold  Ephraim 
Lessing.  Translated  by  Ellen  Frothingham.  i6mo. 
Price  ^1.50. 

In  reference  to  this  work,  we  can  give  our  readers  no  better  proof  of  its  merit 
than  by  quoting  the  words  of  an  English  critic  uttered  many  years  ago:  "The 
author  of  the  '  Laocoon'  was  perhaps  the  greatest  critic  of  modem  times.  The 
object  of  this  celebrated  work  is  to  show  that  the  isolation  of  the  several  fine  arts 
from  each  other  is  essential  to  their  perfection,  and  that  their  common  aim  is  the 
production  of  beauty.  The  peculiar  province  of  poetry  is  proved  to  be  entirely  dis- 
tinct both  from  that  of  morality  and  of  philosophy  ;  being  limited,  strictly  speaking, 
to  the  exhibition  of  ideal  actions.  These  views,  in  which  Lessing  differed  widely 
from  Klopstock,  who  made  moral  beauty,  and  also  from  Wieland,  who  considered 
nature  and  truth,  as  the  great  aim  of  poetry,  but  in  which  he  agreed  with  Aristotle, 
and  was  closely  followed  in  their  assthetical  theories  by  Goethe,  Schiller,  and  Hum- 
boldt, were  enforced  with  great  argumentative  power,  extraordinary  purity  and 
correctness  of  taste,  and  with  rich  and  pertinent  illustrations  from  the  art  and 
literature  of  Greece." 

From  the  Boston  Transcript. 

It  is  a  matter  for  real  congratulation  that  Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers  have  given 
us  the  "  Laocoon"  of  Lessing  in  a  form  accessible  to  readers  ignorant  of  German. 
Miss  Frothingham  has  evidently  done  her  work  of  translation  as  a  labor  of  love. 
Her  rendering  is  at  once  accurate,  and  in  pure,  flowing  Englisli ;  an  achievement 
very  difScu  t  to  accomplish  where  the  whole  grammatical  structure  of  two  languages 
differs  so  widely,  it  is  also  a  feature  of  great  value  toward  the  general  usefu'ness 
of  the  book  that  she  has  appended  translations  of  the  many  passages  from  Latin 
and  Greek  authors  through  wh.ch  Lessing  illustrates  his  argument. 

The  growiiig  interest  in  our  country  in  questions  of  art  and  criticism  ought  to 
secure  for  this  work  a  wide  cla?s  of  readers.  No  tlioughtful  person  ever  forgets 
the  outburst  of  enthusiasm  its  first  reading  awakened  in  him.  Even  Goethe  said 
of  it  that  in  the  confused  period  of  his  own  youth  it  cleared  up  the  whole  heavens 
to  him  and  made  his  path  pjain  before  him.  As  an  offset  to  such  books  as  those 
of  Ruskin,  marvellously  rich  and  suggestive,  but  full  of  subjective  caprice  and  dog- 
matism, it  teaches  invaluable  lessons  of  method.  Lessing  was  a  legislator  in  the 
domain  of  criticism.  His  insight  was  so  nearly  unerring,  and  his  knowledge  so 
vast  and  accurate,  that  his  verdicts  stand  like  those  of  a  Mansfield  or  Marshall  in 
the  courts  of  law. 

.  .  .  The  book  must  be  read  and  re-read.  It  created  an  epoch  in  art  criticism 
wh-^n  it  first  appeared,  and  its  lessons  are  as  fresh  and  weighty  to-day  as  ever.  On 
every  page  great  principles  are  developed  which  help  one  to  an  ever  deeper  appre- 
ciation of  the  works  of  the  great  masters  in  art  and  literature. 


Sold  everywhere  by  all  booksellers.    Mailed,  postpaid,  by 
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Messrs,  Roberts  Brothers*  Publications, 

ENGLISH  LESSONS  FOR  ENGLISH  PEOPLE. 

By  Rev.  E.  A.  Abbott,  M.A.,  and  Prof.  J.  R.  Seeley, 
M.A.  Parti. — Vocabulary.  Part  H.  —  Diction.  Part 
III.  —  Metre.  Part  IV.  —  Hints  on  Selection  and  Ar- 
rangement.    Appendix.     i6mo.     Price  ^1.50. 

From  the  London  Athenaeum. 
The  object  of  this  book  is  evidently  a  practical  one.  It  is  intended  for  ordinary 
use  by  a  large  circle  of  readers ;  and  though  designed  principally  for  boys,  niay  be 
read  with  advantage  by  many  of  more  advanced  years.  One  of  the  lessons  which 
it  professes  to  teach,  *'  to  use  the  right  word  in  the  right  place,"  is  one  which  no 
one  should  despise.  The  accomplishment  is  a  rare  one,  and  many  of  the  hints 
here  given  are  truly  admirable. 

Front  ike  Southern  Review. 

The  study  of  Language  can  never  be  exhausted.  Every  time  it  is  looked  at  by 
a  man  of  real  ability  and  culture,  some  new  phase  starts  into  view.  The  origin 
of  Language;  its  relations  to  the  mind;  its  history;  its  laws;  its  development ; 
its  struggles ;  its  triumphs ;  its  devices ;  its  puzzles ;  its  ethics,  —  every  thing 
about  it  is  full  of  interest. 

Here  is  a  delightful  book,  by  two  men  of  recognized  authority,  —  the  head 
Master  of  London  School,  and  the  Professor  of  Modern  History  in  the  University 
of  Cambridge,  the  notable  author  of  "  Ecce  Homo."  The  book  is  so  compre- 
hensive in  its  scope  that  it  seems  almost  miscellaneous.  It  treats  of  the  vocabulary 
of  the  English  Language ;  Diction  as  appropriate  to  this  or  that  sort  of  compo- 
sition; selection  and  arguments  of  topics;  Metre,  and  an  Appendix  on  Logic. 
All  this  in  less  than  three  hundred  pages.  "Within  this  space  so  many  subjects 
cannot  be  treated  exhaustively ;  and  no  one  is,  unless  we  may  except  Metre,  to 
which  about  eighty  pages  are  devoted,  and  about  which  all  seems  to  be  said  that 
b  worth  saying,  —  possibly  more.  But  on  each  topic  some  of  the  best  things  are 
said  in  a  very  stimulating  way.  The  student  will  desire  to  study  more  thoroughly 
the  subject  into  which  such  pleasant  openings  are  here  given  ;  and  the  best  pre- 
pared teacher  will  be  thankful  for  the  number  of  striking  illustrations  gathered  up 
to  his  liand. 

The  abundance  and  freshness  of  the  quotations  makes  the  volume  very  attrac- 
tive reading,  without  reference  to  its  didactic  value. 


Sold  by  all  booksellers.      Mailed^  postpaid,   by  the  Pub- 
Ushers^ 

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Messrs,  Roberts  Brothers*  Publications, 

Woman  in  American  Society 

By  abba  GOOLD  WOOLSON. 

Price  $1.50. 


Extract  from  a  letter  by  Wvu  Lloyd  Garrison. 
I  am  so  pleased  with  vvliat  you  have  written,  not  only  as  a  specimen  of  admirable 
English  composition,  but  for  its  rare  good  sense,  its  excellent  and  much  needed 
advice,  its  delicate  satire,  its  clear  perception  of  what  belongs  to  true  woman- 
hood, and  its  vigorous  treatment  of  the  various  topics  described  from  ''  The 
Scnool  Girl"  to  •■'  'Ihe  Queen  of  Home,"  that  I  cannot  witiihold  an  expression  of 
my  respect  for  your  talents  and  high  appreciation  of  the  service  you  have  rendered 
your  sex. 

Extract  from  a  letter  frotn  Geo.  S.  Hillard. 

I  think  them  excellent,  combining  sound  sense  with  feminine  delicacy  of 
observation. 

G.  B.  E.  in  Boston  Transcript. 

Here  is  a  powerful  plea  foi  a  higher  and  more  complete  education  for  women  , 
for  an  education  which  shall  develop  her  powers  of  mind  and  of  body,  more  justly  and 
more  thoroughly,  and  fit  her  for  taking  ni  s(,ciety  the  high  position  for  which  God 
has  created  her.  This  book  ought  to  be  in  the  hands  of  every  girl  who  desires  to 
live  a  heahhy,  happy  life,  and  of  every  mother  who  would  have  her  daughter 
prepared  for  such  a  life. 

From  the  Christian  Register. 

This  is  a  thoroughly  good  book, — good  in  style,  good  in  thought,  good  in  its 
practxal  purpose,  its" shrewd  sense,  its  exquisite  humor,  its  delicate  sarcasm,  its 
honesty,  and  its  earnestness.  Every  one  of  its  twenty  essays  touches  some  social 
failing  and  hints  some  useful  improvement. 

The  criticism,  sharp  and  frank  as  it  is,  is  never  malicious  or  cjTiical.  There  is 
no  pedantry,  though  the  author  is  evidently  expert  in  lore  both  ancient  and  mod- 
ern ;  no  sickly  sentiment,  and,  what  is  rare  in  a  lady's  book,  no  poetical  quotation. 

The  longest  chapter  in  the  book,  and,  as  a  piece  of  description,  the  finest,  is 
the  nineteenth,  on  "  Grandmothers'  Houses."  This  is  painting  from  the  life,  and 
with  a  minuteness  and  finish  worthy  of  the  most  accomplished  of  the  Dutch  or 
Flemish  masters.     Whittier's  "  Snow-Bound"  is  not  more  complete  in  its  kind. 

From  the  Boston  Globe. 
It  consists  of  twenty  short,  sensible,  witty,  and  vigorous  essays,  directed  chiefly 
s^ainst  the  follies  of  th"  sex. 

From,  tlie  Boston  Journal. 
She  writes  so  keenly  at  times  as  to  suggest  comparison  with  the  author  of  the 
"  Saturday  Review"  papers  on  woman  ;  with  this  marked  difference,  that,  while  the 
criticisms  of  the  latter  are  bitter  and  unsparing,  those  of  Mrs.  Woolson,  however 
sincere,  evince  always  the  generous  purpose  which  underlies  them,  and  show  the 
author's  appreciation  of  woman's  real  worth  and  the  opportunities  within  her 
reach. 

From  the  Boston  Saturday  Evening  Gazette- 
There  is  that  in  it  that  needed  to  be  said,  and  had  not  been  said  before,  in  any 
writing  that  had  come  under  our  observation,  so  well  as  she  has  expressed  it 
here. 

1 

Sold  everywhere.     Mailed.,  ^postpaid.,  by  the  Publishers., 

ROBERTS   BROTHERS,   Boston. 


Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers'  Publications, 


THE  LAYMAN'S  BREVIARY.  A  Selection  for  Every 
Day  in  the  Year.  Translated  from  the  German  of  Lkopold  Schefer, 
by  Charles  T.  Brooks.  In  one  square  16mo.  volume,  bevelled  cloth, 
gilt  edges.    Price,  $  2.50.     A  cheaper  edition.    Price,  $  1.50. 

'The  'Layman's  Breviary'  will  adorn  drawincr-roora  centre-tab Ip9„ 
bouaoirs,  library  nooks;  it  will  be  a  favorite  travelling,'  companion,  and 
be  carried  on  summer  excursions  to  read  under  trees  and  on  verandas. 
For  every  day  of  the  year  there  are  tlioug^ljts,  counsels,  aspirations  —  ma- 
ny of  them  Oriental  m  tone,  or  patriarclial  in  spirit;  there  are  deliueati  >ii8 
of  nature,  pure  utterances  of  faith ;  each  page  contains  fresh  and  ('aruest 
expressions  of  a  pontic,  believing,  humane  soul  —often  clad  in  exquisite 
language.  It  is  eminently  a  household  book,  and  one  to  be  taken  up  and 
enjoyed  at  intervals."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

"  Each  poem  is  in  itself  a  sermon  ;  not  of  dry,  theological  dogmas,  but 
the  love  and  care  of  the  Infinite,  the  yearning  and  outreaching  of  the  hu- 
man to  grasp  the  divine.  It  is  a  book  not  to  be  lightly  read  and  carelessly 
tossed  aside,  but  to  be  studied  daily  until  the  lessons  it  conveys  ar« 
learned,  and  its  comforting  words  written  on  every  heart.  Of  the  au- 
thor's religious  opinions  we  know  nothing ;  what  creed  he  subscribop  to 
we  cannot  tell ;  but  we  do  know  that  lie  is  a  true  worshipper  of  God.  and 
lover  of  his  fellow-men.  This  book  should  be  on  every  table;  all  houne- 
holds  should  possess  it;  we  cannot  too  highly  recommend  it  to  the  notice 
of  all.  It  has  been  truly  said,  that  'these  blooming  pictures  of  Nature, 
praising  the  love,  the  goodness,  the  wisdom  of  the  Creator  and  His  work, 
form  in  truth  a  poetical  book  of  devotion  for  the  lat/jnun  whom  the  dogma 
does  not  satisfy  —  a  breviary  for  man.'  "  —  Tlie  Wide  World. 

MY  PRISONS.  Memoirs  of  Silvio  Pellico.  With  an 
Introduction  by  Epes  Sargent,  and  embellished  with  fifty  Illustra- 
tions from  drawings  by  Billings.  One  square  12mo.  volume,  bevelled 
cloth,  gilt  edges.    Price,  $  3.50.     A  cheaper  edition.    Price,  $  1.75. 

"  Some  thirty-five  years  ago  the  publication  of"  My  Prisons,  Memoirs  of 
riilvio  Pellico,"  first  appealed  to  the  sympathies  of  the  Italian  people. 
The  history  ofa  martyr  to  freedom  is  always  entertaining,  and  the  pathos 
and  beauty  which  surround  the  narrative  in  question  have  always  kept 
alive  the  interest  of  all  intelligent  nations.  It  ranks,  therefore,  deservedly 
high  in  biographical  literature.  The  present  edition  is  a  very  superior  one, 
and  is  introduced  by  Epes  Sargent,  who  vigorously  reviews  the  despotism 
of  Austria  in  the  incarceration  of  Pellico,  and  the  changes  which  have 
since  occurred  in  European  politics."  —  Chicago  Evening  Journal. 

"  The  story  is  simply  told,  for  adventures  like  those  of  the  author  need 
no  graces  of  style  or  highly  wrought  figures.  The  book  has  a  charm 
which  few  novels  possess;  indeed,  one  can  hardly  believe  that  it  i.-.  true, 
and  that  so  few  years  have  passed  since  men  of  noble  birth  and  fine  rul 
ture  were  condemned  to  suffer  for  years  in  prison  ou  account  of  their  pa 
liticai  opinions. "  —  i>os<on  Transcript, 


^fy-  Mailed,  post  paid,  to  any  address,  on  receipt  of  tM  price,  by  tM 
PubUshera. 

1& 


MESSRS.   EOBEETS  BEOTHEES'  PUBLICATIONS. 

THE  PRIMEVAL  WORLD  OF  HEBREW  TRA- 
UITION.  By  Frederic  Henry  Hedge,  D.D.,  Author  ol 
"  Reason  in  lieligion."     One  volume,  IGmo.    Price  $1.50. 

From  the  New  York  Tribune. 
Mr.  Hedge  may  be  called  an  eclectic:  not  as  one  who  picks  from  dif- 
ferent sj'stems  the  detached  bits  that  suit  him,  and  then  joins  them  skilfully 
together;  but  as  one  who,  committing  himself  unreservedly  to  neither  sys- 
tem, endeavors  by  independent  and  cultivated  insight  to  get  at  the  deepest 
truth  contained  in  formulas,  creeds,  and  institutions.  His  faith  is  wholly 
ta  reason:  he  will  prove  all  things,  and  hold  fast  only  what  is  good;  but 
his  crucibles  are  various  in  size  and  quality,  his  tests  are  of  many  kinds, 
and  his  reason  combines  the  action  of  as  many  intellectual  fiiculties  as  he 
can  bring  into  play.  His  faith  is  planted  in  a  lirm  but  gracious  Theisaa, 
moral  like  that  of  Muses,  and  loving  like  that  of  Christ.  The  belief  in  a 
divine  origin,  education,  guidance,  and  discipline  of  the  world,  runs  through 
bis  pages;  and  a  conviction  of  the  moral  capabilities  and  of  the  spiritual 
destination  of  man  shines  in  his  argument  and  ennobles  the  conclusion. 
Those  who  do  not  agree  with  the  book  need  not  be  offended  by  it ;  and  they 
who  do  agree  with  it  will  be  charmed  by  the  beauty  in  which  what  they 
regard  as  truth  is  con  veiled. 

From  the  London  (Eng.)  Enquirer. 
We  have  been  unable  to  criticise  because  we  find  ourselves  throughout 
in  entire  sympathy  and  agreement  with  the  writer.  We  cordially  commend 
Dr.  Hedge's  book  as  the  best  solution  we  have  ever  seen  of  the  difficult 
problems  connected  with  the  i)rimeval  Scripture  record,  and  as  an  ailmi- 
rable  illustration  of  the  spirit  of  reverent  constructive  criticism.  Such  a 
work  as  this  is  aim  ist  like  a  new  revelation  of  the  <livine  worth  of  the 
ancient  Hebrew  Traditions,  and  their  perniaueut  relation  to  the  higher 
thought  and  progress  of  the  world. 

AMERICAN    RELIGION.     By  John  Weiss.      One 

volume,  16mo.     Cloth.    Price  $1.50. 

From  the  Philoulelphia  Press. 
Himself  a  clergyman,  ]\Ir.  Weiss  writes  understandingly  upon  a  very 
Bolemii  theme.     His  closing  chapter,  entitled  "The  American  Soldier,"  ig 
one  cf  the  noblest  and  truest  tributes  to  the  patriots  of  18Gl-()5  ever  put  into 
print. 

From  the  Chicago  Tribune. 
Mr.  Weiss  has  presented  to  the  public  a  scheme  for  an  American  religion 
which,  it  is  almost  needless  to  say,  is  a  religion  of  the  intellect  adapted  to 
the  highest  form  of  American  culture,  and  not  pervaded  to  any  great  degree 
with  spirituality,  as  the  term  is  understood  among  orthodox  believers. 
...  If  Mr.  Weiss  had  christened  his  scheme  "  American  Morality,"  we 
would  gladly  have  hailed  his  discovery.  As  it  is,  we  cannot  but  commend 
its  loftiness  of  purpose.  It  is  a  work  full  of  noble  thought,  and,  however 
much  the  reader  may  disagree  with  it  from  a  religious  point  of  view,  there 
are  very  few  who  can  fail  to  be  struck  with  its  purity  of  aim  and  its  healthy 
moral  tone;  while  the  merely  literary  reader  will  derive  equal  gratilication 
from  the  scholarly  style  and  the  richness  of  illustration  and  research  it  dis- 

Elays.    The  last  chapter  but  one,  "Constancy  to  an  Ideal,"  is  one  of  the 
nest  and  noblest  essays  ever  written  by  an  American,  and  deserves  to  be 
read  and  heeded  by  every  American. 

Sold  everywhere.    Mailed,  postpaid,  by  the  Publishers, 

ROBERTS    BROTHERS,  Boston. 


Date  Due 


3 


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